Milkshake
by ssserpensssotia
Summary: AU. Too bad for humanity, Lord Voldemort failed, and now a green-eyed boy with a temporarily undiscovered, unimaginable power, is best pals with Jim Moriarty. But that's just the beginning... Supernatural!Harry, Dark!Harry
1. Hello!

AU. Enter Severus Snape, Mycroft Holmes and Lucius Malfoy, alongside with powerful enemies from both the muggle and wizarding worlds, and mix it up with the explosive combination of Albus Dumbledore's and Lord Voldemort's imposing personalities. Add a sociopath with an abusive family and evil tendencies as the main protagonist, and shake it well. And before serving the drink to Harry Potter's best friend who has been his main influence since Harry was seven, think whether you really want to deal with someone like James Moriarty. No pairings.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Sherlock belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC. No profit is made. No copyright intended.

The timeframes are shifted to fit the story. All Sherlock Holmes characters are non-magical.

—

 _Beta: Julie. fjad_

 **Milkshake**

—

Chapter One

 **Hello!**

"Tell me, Harry, do you still hear voices after you take the pills I have prescribed you the last time we met?"

Dulled, green eyes behind round, broken glasses focused on the man sitting opposite of him, and the thin, pale face twisted and formed a small smile that resembled a frown and a smirk.

Dr. Magnus Allison, a man in his forties, with smart eyes and an inviting smile, was looking at the young boy, sitting comfortably in the patient's chair, not letting any detail escape him.

This child was special.

Harry's green eyes met the blue ones of his doctor.

' _Is the boy really crazy, or is he truly special?'_

The green eyed boy, who was seven but looked smaller and thinner than most children his age, smiled a small smile and nodded.

"I don't hear anything, Dr. Allison," he replied in a calm, polite tone.

' _He is lying,'_ the doctor thought and was rewarded with a mischievous twinkle in the now sharp, green eyes.

"How do you feel after you take the pills, Harry?" Dr. Allison asked, while checking the notes with the previously prescribed medicine.

 _I don't take them. Dudley takes them with his morning meal. No wonder Petunia started freaking out when Dudley would just stare at the ceiling, drooling like a vegetable._

Harry shifted in his seat, stretching his legs.

"I feel calmer. I feel…"

 _I feel like I always do._

"How you do truly feel, you can tell me anything, Harry."

' _Why is he not affected by medicine?'_

"I feel wonderful, Dr. Allison," Harry said honestly, with a polite smile and leaned a bit forward, his eyes behind the spectacles greener than usual with small, tiny pupils.

"You find our session to be to your satisfaction. You are more than pleased with my results. And you are going to prescribe me even more mind-altering pills. Aren't you, Dr. Allison?"

The walls seemed to expand, and the whole room was suddenly larger, more spacey, and it was filled with Harry's words. Dr. Magnus Allison blinked a few times and nodding, he started writing in his notepad.

"I am very satisfied with our session today, Harry. I am very pleased to tell you that I find you to be getting better and better each time we meet. I'll give you a new prescription, though. Alright, Harry?"

A small smile was all Dr. Allison got in response, those sharp, green eyes not leaving his face even for a second.

"If you'll forgive me for a minute, Harry, I am going to make a call. Would you like some tea?"

 _Finally._

 _The doc was going to make the call he had been forced to make every time, ever since their first session._

Those green eyes caught his blue ones again, and a shiver ran down Dr. Allison's spine.

' _I need to call him. I need to let him know about the boy, or I will be dead.'_

"Dr. Allison, who do you need to call, if I may ask?"

A seven year old had to be curious, even if he could read minds.

' _I need to call the worst psycho I have ever met.'_

"A colleague of mine, Harry. Nothing to worry about." Dr. Allison got up and ruffled Harry's black, unruly hair.

' _He'll kill everyone to get to you.'_

"Is that so?" A raised brow and squinted eyes, along with the soothing tone, made Dr. Allison think that maybe, his boss wasn't the biggest psycho he had ever met. Maybe, just maybe he was number two, after that freakish boy called Harry Potter, who made him feel like a bug under a microscope.

When the door to his private study was closed behind him, Dr. Allison took out his phone and with a shaking hand, dialled the number, and trying not to stammer, he said in a trembling voice.

"May I speak to Mr. Moriarty, please?"

xxx

Harry crossed his legs and leaned onto his hand, onto the armchair, deep in his thoughts.

Ever since he could remember, he had been able to hear what people thought. He knew their deepest secrets, only by looking them in the eye. He could tell when someone was lying to him, and he could control the mind of a person for a short period of time.

He was very young, a first-year, but he felt so much wiser, especially when there were no secrets from him. He knew everything around him.

Had it not been for this interesting ability, he would have turned into a drooling vegetable, stuffed with pills for children with ADHS and developed schizophrenia. His beloved relatives had brought him to the shrink the first time when he had been six.

Who brings such young children to the docs to get pills when they aren't needed?

Too bad for Dudley, Harry had decided to forego the spectacle of refusing to take the pills, and instead managed to hide them in any food his cousin took.

Not that he cared about that fat whale, or the horse who was supposed to be his aunt.

If he could, he would murder his 'family', and live happily on his own, or even in the orphanage.

He had tried, actually, two times already. Arson was spotted by the nosy neighbours and the gas leak by Marge's bitch dog.

Now, he was sitting in the comfortable chair of his psychiatrist's office, waiting for the doc to finish talking to _'the worst psycho who would kill everyone to get to him'_. Harry could have walked away after brainwashing the doc, but the killing part interested him the most.

Maybe that psycho would off the Dursleys for him?

Harry had been abused by his family for as long as he could remember, not getting enough food and living space. He was constantly being lied to, and Harry hated lies.

Even more than his so-called family.

The doctor returned and Harry plastered his polite smile onto his face. What will the doc be lying about now?

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Harry. I had to make this phone call. I hope you didn't get bored?"

 _It was so, so boring without you, clown. Mr. Moriarty, huh?_

"That's fine, Dr. Allison. I take it I can return home, to Privet Drive Number Four?"

He needed to repeat the address, in case the idiot doc got it wrong, and the 'psycho' would visit another family, instead of his.

Harry wouldn't mind if the whole neighbourhood had been wiped out, but the Dursleys mattered the most.

Taking the receipt and shaking the sweaty hand of his doc, Harry stepped out of the cabinet and hiding his grimace, walked over to the waiting Petunia.

 _Heya, horse!_

"Aunty Petunia, I am told to go hooome nooow."

Harry had found out that behaving like a retarded, stoned—close to drooling— idiot worked the best when angering his family. It was the highlight of the day, to see their red faces, unable to do anything to a 'special' child on 'medicine' while others watched.

At 'home' he would be punished, like always, however, today, Harry had a feeling it would be different.

He had been to so many shrinks that he would need two hands to count them, all charging money and shitting bull, simply prescribing pills. Petunia would make him work for the extra expenses, cleaning the whole house, and doing all the duties, including toilet cleaning, which actually turned easier after that fucking whale of a cousin was drooling into the pillow, sleeping from the drugs, and not shitting all over the seat. Like he had done once.

On purpose.

After that, Dudley started a new life.

Harry started to urge the psychiatrist to prescribe more powerful medicine— drugs—in higher dosages, so that Dudley could enjoy a ride on daily basis.

Petunia did not know that the pills were getting stronger and stronger.

Tonight Harry would be punished, but it did not matter.

Let them have their fun while it lasted. Soon, his time would come, and then…

Then everyone would pay for their sins.

xxx

It was such a boring evening.

Even his punishment was delayed as Vernon had decided to stay at some idiotic dinner with his boss for longer.

It would have been better for Vernon to be here now.

Dudley was sleeping— _again, which meant it was quiet in the house_ —and Harry counted the people he wanted dead, creating small holes in the wall of his cupboard under the stairs.

 _Where was his psycho?_

The wall looked like it had survived World War II by now, and Harry stuck the pen deeply into the wall, twisting the handle, over and over again before the pen fell apart on the floor.

With a heavy sigh, Harry willed the pen to reassemble itself, and prepared for another hit on the wall, when he heard the doorbell ring.

 _Finally!_

For as long as he could remember, Harry didn't get excited, he didn't do happy and didn't cry. He barely felt anything.

Now, however, he was holding his breath, waiting for the horse— _aunty_ — to open the door and face her destiny.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd find someone to help him out?

xxx

Dudley didn't wake from his nap and peed his bed, making Petunia clean the sheets when the doorbell rang.

 _What now?_

Her baby Duddlikins was obviously very sick and tired, and Petunia had a lot on her mind— _her freak nephew the most_ —when she opened the door.

A man in his thirties, dressed to perfection in an expensive suit was looking at her with his brown eyes that had the same glint she had seen before, in the freak's eyes.

 _Insanity,_ a thought flew in the back of her mind, recognition that was pushed aside.

Petunia would have already assumed the man to be a wizard, had it not been for normal muggle clothing and three sleek, expensive black cars that stood now near her driveway.

"How may I help you?" Petunia asked, looking around for nosy neighbours.

The man smiled, making her insides twist with worry. Something inside her was stirring, screaming at her to grab Dudley and run away, but she never listened to superstitious nonsense called instinct.

"Hello!" The man laughed the word out loud and then Petunia was pushed to the side, as two men entered before clearing the way for the man in the suit.

"Do I know you?" She managed to choke out, her fear clouding her mind.

Who was it?

His smile was now simply sinister, and Petunia wished for Vernon to return sooner from his dinner with colleagues. Not that Vernon could help.

Petunia was shaking as she saw two more armed men enter the house.

"Do _you_ know _me_?" He laughed, throwing his head back before suddenly getting very serious.

Harry was now pushed down to number two on the psycho list that Petunia had.

The man snapped his fingers and the armed security started sweeping around, looking for something.

"Under the stairs!"

The armed men and the man in the suit froze for a second at the scream, and Petunia paled.

"Mister Moriarty, don't kill her! I want to watch!"

The voice was muffled by the door, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Petunia almost started to sob when the man in the suit—Mr. Moriarty, as Potter had called him—barked out a mad laugh and rushed towards the door behind which Harry Potter lived.

The lock was on the floor after one hit with a gun's trunk, and Petunia's teary eyes met the dishevelled figure of her nephew, whose green eyes were shining and teeth bared in a happy smile, as he saluted the man in the suit.

"I am Harry, but you already know that. Now that I am out, could you, you know, proceed?"

"How do you know my name, Harry?" The voice was soft, almost lulling, but the danger behind it was easy to hear.

"I know many things, Mr. Moriarty, and we can help each other if we agree on conditions." Harry squinted his eyes at one of the security men armed with a gun, and then turned back to face Mr. Moriarty. "That one here, works for someone called Mycroft, and he passed the information about the thermonuclear transmitter, whatever that is."

The silence was quick, and was interrupted by a silent "pop".

The body of the man was on the floor, with a bullet between the eyes, and Petunia would have screamed, had the gun not changed directions, and was now being pointed at her, the mad glint in the brown eyes on the insane face making her almost piss from fear, the hand holding the smoking gun with silencer not even strained, relaxed.

"Can you shoot her legs first?" Harry asked, innocently blinking, before adding a polite "please".

Mr. Moriarty's eyes were calculating and shining as he looked over the boy. "We'll be great friends, Harry."

The man rocked on his heels and then offered his hand to the boy for a friendly shake, taking the gun into the other hand.

"You can call me James."

And Petunia started to sob.

xxx

 _a/n In between my diploma mad-rush, I need an outlet. Hope you like it._


	2. Call Me James

_Beta: Julie. fjad_

 **Call Me James**

Chapter Two

"Albus, what do you mean, you cannot find him?" A tall man with black hair that hung like a curtain _—_ from a cheap motel, all dirty and dizzy _—_ almost screamed at the senile old fool who had just informed him that all traces of Harry Potter and the Dursleys were gone from Privet Drive Number Four, and simply disappeared.

It wasn't even a little funny.

Albus Dumbledore finally opened his eyes and with a sad sigh, he straightened in his Headmaster's chair, his one hand running through his white beard, indicating that he was still deep in thoughts.

"I did not place any tracking charms on the Dursleys, and the one coming from Harry is blocked by the boy's own magic," Albus said slowly, as if reliving his own mistake, not looking him in the eye. "He doesn't want to be found, Severus."

The sneer on the younger man's face was half-desperate, half-enraged. The only person that he had promised to do everything for, was gone to Merlin knows where and they had no information on the wards, as Albus had set them around the house, and not the family.

Saying he was frustrated didn't do his feelings any justice.

"Alright. And now what?" Severus asked in a tone that would have made an adult cry for mom, but had very little effect on the old man who remained sitting in his chair, stroking his beard.

Blue eyes looked sad, but hopeful.

"His wish will be respected. Until it is time for Harry to come to Hogwarts, he shall not be disturbed by us."

Just like Severus had said, senile.

"We can find him through the Muggle Government, Albus. He is a child, he cannot know how to block magical trace, but even if Potter did somehow manage to do the impossible once again, then he is still a Muggle boy for now, with records of where he lives and what notes he gets in the first grade." Severus Snape crossed his arms as the Headmaster shook his head.

"We would be invading his privacy. I res _—_ "

Severus slammed his palms onto the desk as he rose to his full height.

"You plan to train the boy to be a soldier, having chosen the path for him, instead of offering him a choice, and you preach about privacy?!"

He had almost added "what is wrong with you?",but it was enough. If Albus was once again in the mood to remain blind, then there was no need to argue.

You don't argue with a wall, do you? You sidestep it, and continue to your destination.

If Albus didn't see it fit to make sure the boy _—_ Potter _—_ was well, then Severus would do it himself.

For Lily.

How hard would it be to find a seven year old if you're a Master Legilimens and you know how the Muggle world works?

 _xxx_

"That's it. Slowly. In and out. In and out." The man in a brown leather jacket and gloves was talking quietly, crouching, trying not to disturb the concentration of the boy, who was lying on his stomach near the man's brown, leather shoes. In one gloved hand the man held an optical pair of binoculars.

"Hold it in and _—_ "

"MISTER MORIARTY, PLEASE, SIR, I CANNOT DO IT!" The scream tore through the silence and the boy on the ground growled, looking up at the man. Harry knew James would flip out now.

James Moriarty jumped up from his squatting position and with a feral snarl, he took out his own gun before aiming quickly and pulling the trigger without a hint of hesitation, shooting the person next to the screamer.

Harry looked through the scope of his sniper rifle, and balancing the grip, he focused on the poles ahead.

The guy who had screamed was now standing with his eyes closed, face white, trying not to breathe, so that he wouldn't get a headshot instead of the target that was balanced on his head.

The red apple.

Smirking, Harry breathed in slowly and focused.

He wasn't in a hurry.

Who knew security could be so easily scared?

Well, _he_ knew.

 _xxx_

"May I ask, Severus, what brings you to such a political establishment as this one when you don't even vote?" The man with long, blond hair was holding a cane with a snake head, while smiling through squinted eyes at the slightly sneering black-haired man.

Lucius Malfoy tilted his head to the side while contemplating Severus' next move. He could tell the truth, or slither away.

"I could ask the same, Lucius. Muggles?"

The blond waved his hand in a casual manner. "Business."

Severus needed something very important if he was in the Ministry of International Relations that dealt with everything muggle related. Not even muggleborn. Muggle. Severus probably didn't even know that Lucius visited the Muggle consul with twelve selected members each week, making multi-billion companies run with more investments.

It wasn't allowed to show off your magic, but if no one would tell…

It would seem hypocritical, but Malfoys had been the sponsors of many multi-billion corporations in the muggle world, and converting the profit, they got more and more galleons in their endless Gringotts vaults.

Lucius did not officiate it, but he knew a lot of important Muggles.

Severus Snape had been silent for a second before smirking and shaking his head. "It's muggle related, Lucius. You would be the last person to know anything about what I need."

Lucius' grey eyes seemed to sparkle with hidden laughter, and Severus once again thought about his decision not to share with Malfoy. Lucius could be manipulated, and the outcome could be great, but Severus was still unwilling to share that the boy-who-lived had disappeared.

"Well, then I wish you a great day, my friend." Lucius nodded in farewell, and Severus breathed in.

Lucius was a major risk that he wasn't willing to take yet. Severus would try to find Harry Potter on his own, and if he failed, only then he'd turn to Lucius Malfoy.

If at all.

 _xxx_

"As long as you separate people into nations, you're not a terrorist, you're a part of the system. A terrorist is when you work internationally, without any preferences. If you have preferences, you are a fanatic. You have to let it go completely." The man with sunglasses was sitting opposite of him, looking at Harry through coloured lenses. "And you are someone like me when you work internationally world-wide, not thinking about race or nation. Everyone is the same, Harry, no exceptions. Yourself included."

"Very democratic approach, by the way. Treat all equally," Harry noted with a huff, looking out of the bullet-proof windows of their jeep.

"Exactly. I like how sharp you are, Harry. I truly dislike idiots," James Moriarty explained with a shrug, and Harry really believed him.

James was so smart that Harry often felt like an idiot himself. He was glad James approved. It didn't matter in the larger picture, but it was nice, so Harry leaned back in the leather seat, relaxing. He smiled at James and gestured outside.

"And that is why we are in Pakistan."

James Moriarty nodded while typing something quickly on his smartphone.

They never worked with Harry.

Five hundred IPhones, Blackberries and Samsung's later, it was a fact.

Smartphones and computers stopped working when Harry dealt with them. James thought it could be the magnetic field around Harry, or something similarly difficult, and since none knew what it was that actually blocked the technology, they couldn't do anything about it. A year with James taught Harry a lot.

It sucked, having to buy new books and newspapers, and wait for news.

"The Russians don't sell anymore, and I really want that article." James answered, finally putting the phone away, and smiling at Harry.

"And where are you going to bring it to?"

"Home." James smiled a smile that reminded Harry of Joker.

"You have preferences."

"I never said I am a terrorist, Harry, you better listen more carefully. I said someone like me. I am Criminal Consulting. I do everything because I am a fanatic, and my new obsession is in London. I want to greet him from the shore." James could go from eerily calm to full berserk in less than a second, and it was hard to read his thoughts because of the complexity. And Japanese.

If you don't understand what the person thinks…It sucked.

"You want to detonate the bomb in Cardiff?" Harry was now sitting straight, looking at James with wide eyes.

"Why, of course! Why?" James was now all serious again, and Harry shifted in his seat.

"Don't get me wrong, James, you're even better than awesome."

"But…"

"But it's just a bit too much, you know. I am totally fine with killing my aunt and the whales, and I still don't understand why you keep them alive and relatively free by the way, but detonating a nuclear bomb in Cardiff? I think it's a bit overwhelming for a beginner." Harry didn't really have a problem with killing, it was the idea to kill so many in a second and then make the whole area unlivable for a long period of time that bothered him. A bit.

"What scares you, Harry?" Moriarty asked, staring like a snake at Harry.

The boy paused for a minute before explaining.

"The area would be contaminated for centuries."

"I am an artist and the world is my canvas. Why not leave a hole in it?" James Moriarty answered truthfully and took a sip of cold Fanta, enjoying its bubbles.

"And so many people would die." Harry shook his head as he heard James' answer.

"That's what people do, Harry."

What can you say to that?

James kept silent, looking out of the window, and then looked back at the boy.

"We'll get the bomb and I detonate it later when you're fine with it. Better?"

Harry looked into James' eyes to read that he wasn't lying. That was very nice to know that someone like Mr. Moriarty would amend his plans for you. Harry wasn't really complaining.

It was much better than with the Dursleys.

 _xxx_

Another glass exploded as a man with black hair and a crooked nose threw it against the wall.

"Severus Snape! What do you think you're doing, young man?" Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway, with her hands on her hips, glaring at her younger colleague.

With a grunt, Severus dropped into his armchair and offered Minerva a seat opposite of him.

"Please sit down, Minerva. I have a lot to tell you."

 _xxx_

The sorting hat would have closed its ears if it could, or disappear, just like the portraits in the Headmaster's Tower.

"And don't get me started that Severus could not detect any trace of Harry in his one year search. What have you done, Albus?!"

The old Headmaster was petting Fawkes, trying not to go deaf from all the screaming. Severus was standing in the corner, hands crossed on his chest, and smirking, while listening to the tongue lashing Albus had been receiving from Minerva for the last half an hour.

One year he had been trying to respect the boy's wishes, but Severus' inability to find anything really worried Albus.

Where were the Dursleys?

Where was Harry?

He needed to contact Cornelius Fudge.

 _xxx_

' **F,T, Pak'** He read the small paper and put it down on his large desk, slowly, while already thinking of a million things.

"Sir, I am afraid we have lost all traces of Moriarty in India. All our men are down and only this message was delivered before the connection went dead."

Mycroft Holmes closed his eyes for a second before looking at the man who had delivered him the news.

"Moriarty has now a fission nuclear bomb with tritium in his possession, and he bought it in Pakistan, which isn't supposed to have this type of nuclear weapons in the first place," Mycroft said, while getting up from his seat and moving towards the door, ignoring the shocked man.

"Someone is helping him, and we need to know who. Now." Mycroft opened the door and the MI6 agent hurriedly left, hiding his fear.

Mycroft squinted his eyes as he looked at the golden fishes in the large aquarium, and then he took out a coin from the inner pocket of his jacket.

 **L.M.** was engraved onto the golden coin that started to shine when he pressed the middle.

Mycroft had a very nasty suspicion that a wizard was involved in this mess, and if that was the case _—_ it was, as he never made mistakes _—_ then he'd make the other kind deal with him.

Wizards and muggles did not belong together.

 _xxx_

An eight-year-old Harry was looking at James through the binoculars, and he had to admit that James was someone he did not want to mess around with.

The swimming pool was the only normal illumination in the sports hall, and Harry could see a tall man with curly hair in a high-collared jacket , and another man, the one who had had the bomb around his torso.

James' philosophy on life was something Harry could relate to, but he still had a lot to learn.

Just as Harry thought the curly-haired man would pull the trigger, he heard a tune he had started to hate.

" _Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive, ah, ah, ah…"_

Smirking, Harry shook his head and he saw the nearby sniper do the same.

Life with James was never boring.

 _xxx_

Albus Dumbledore regretted many things in his life, allowing Harry to disappear being one of them.

"Dumbledore, what are you saying?" Cornelius Fudge was holding his hand over his heart, still in disbelief, not wanting to imagine the outlash from society.

Dumbledore had lost Harry Potter and the Ministry had allowed for it to happen. What would the people say?

"I am afraid, we have lost Harry James Potter in the muggle world, and are unable to find him."

"We have no idea where the boy-who-lived is, this is what the public will say. Muggles? What do we do?" Cornelius Fudge fanned himself with his hat and called for a house-elf to bring some tea. And coffee.

Irish.

Albus Dumbledore poured himself a cup of tea and tasting the brew, he looked over the desperate figure of the Minister of Magic.

"We'll find him, Cornelius. We'll find him."

xxx

 _a/n Thank you for your reviews, I truly appreciate them. Next chapter will be called Call Me Harry :)_


	3. Almost eleven

_New summary : If you mix unstable ingredients, you may get more than you bargained for. Harry is raised by Jim Moriarty, and he is about to start Hogwarts. What can one boy do to change the world? Dark!Harry_

 _The story is told from several POVs._

 _Beta: Julie. fjad_

Chapter Three

 **Almost eleven**

"Do you understand everything, my good friend?"

Harry was looking into the hazel eyes that were always filled with different emotions, but always dead serious, even when joking, but now he could see sincere, honest concern there.

Even though James was a fanatic, Harry had always hoped _—_ even when knowing better _—_ that James would not leave him behind.

He was extremely useful, and as James had said it on several occasions, Harry was the candle of light in the otherwise overwhelming darkness _—_ what most people called boredom. But still, even he couldn't compare to the source of James' frustration. And pleasure. Harry knew how obsessed Moriarty was with Holmes Junior, and there was nothing he could do.

Fucking Sherlock.

James wasn't saying goodbye, but it was one. It felt like it, and Harry swallowed hard.

Tomorrow, when the letter would come, a new life would knock on Harry's door, and he'd have to start his own game that had no room for failure.

And he would have no one to rely on. No one to help him, no one to give him good advice.

No one. Again.

"I understand."

And he did. James was going to play a role and then, most likely, die, if he had to, and Harry had no place in the picture. The hit from Holmes would be as powerful as Moriarty's, and James did not want Harry near the soup he was about to brew.

Harry was Moriarty's only weak spot and was supposed to stay as far away as possible, learning magic and seeing the world for himself. No one was to know about Harry's illegal guardian, so that he could have a normal life in the wizarding world.

If only wizards knew how easy it was to find their "hidden" world…

Especially with connections like James Moriarty had.

James wanted to see Diagon Alley, but since the search for Harry kept on, they were afraid there were wards that would alert the authorities to Harry Potter's presence, and James was a muggle.

He had so many books he needed three libraries. Not that money was an issue, nor would it become one, as Harry Potter would have access to many secret accounts and would be able to afford anything he wished for.

He had so many thoughts he wanted to scream.

Harry had to go to Hogwarts, and James had to follow his mania.

The polished cars were shining in the sun, making Harry's eyes water.

He wasn't crying. He was almost eleven.

"If you want to be great, you cannot have any attachments, little one."

Today they were going to have fun for the last time, and then Harry would disappear, and James would be arrested soon.

"One day, I am going to show you Diagon Alley and everything you want to see," Harry said, demanding his voice to stay neutral, but James was just too brilliant, too smart, to not see the pain in the boy's eyes.

"I have faith in you, little one. Let go and accept the inevitable. And remember, if the most important figures are missing from the chessboard, then the game hasn't started yet. Make everyone think the game has started, watch their moves, learn their style and nature." Moriarty came closer and hugged Harry, whispering into his ear. "And then strike, like the deadly snake you are, and never let go. Nothing may stand between you and your goal. Not even your life, Harry!"

James Moriarty was dressed in his usual handsome suit _—_ Westwood _—_ and Harry looked at his sneakers and t-shirt, as James stepped aside, now holding Harry's shoulders.

He looked like a child.

Which he was, but with James age did not matter.

"Be yourself when you pretend. Be like me." James smiled an honest, full of mirth smile, and Harry could do nothing but smile back, asking through the hidden tears, "You mean all crazy?"

Anyone else would be shot, but he wasn't just anyone. He was Harry Potter.

"Unpredictable."

xxx

The thirtieth of July finally came, and Severus couldn't be more agitated, yet excited. Tomorrow, they'd find out where the Boy-who-lived was staying. Finally, after almost four years, he would know where the hell Potter was.

Severus didn't know if he wanted to strangle or hug the idiot when he would meet him. And today, he was meeting with Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge to then attend a meeting with someone from the British Muggle government. 'Mycroft Holmes' did not ring any bells.

"I am going with you, Albus. This is not up for a discussion. You have done enough, don't you agree?"

Severus almost smiled at the proud Scottish witch who was standing up to the great Albus Dumbledore. If there was one witch that held his utmost respect, it was Minerva McGonagall.

"Ah, there you are, Severus. Professor Dumbledore seems confused about my opinion on this issue, so either I have lost my explanation skills, or he has gone senile. I am going with you to the meeting with Mister Mycroft Holmes and I will be there tomorrow to see Harry Potter. You have done enough, Albus." Minerva took a deep breath and adjusted the hat on her head.

Severus took a quick look at the defeated Headmaster, and the sneer made it to his face. The boy did not exist, according to all muggle sources. Tomorrow, on the eleventh birthday of the boy-who-lived, the chase would be finally over. As soon as the owl reached its target, the address would be written down in the Book of Hogwarts, and they all would Apparate to the known address.

"The Muggle Prime Minister offered to organise a meeting with Mr. Holmes, to help with our problem, and in return, we would help with the problem the British government faces. Due to unforeseen circumstances the meeting had been delayed by several months, and only today we get the chance to meet. If you so insist, please do come with us, Minerva. " Albus Dumbledore got up from his chair and walked over to Severus and Minerva, holding a small paper with something written on it.

 _Baker Street 221b, London_

Severus read the note and repeated the words in his head, focusing on the upcoming pull near the navel.

He hoped the muggle wasn't a complete idiot.

Xxx

"Sherlock, sit down. Don't make me regret telling you about wizarding world's existence in the first place." Mycroft shook his head at his younger brother, who kept pacing in the living room, between the chairs where he and Dr. Watson sat.

In one minute Sherlock would pull out a cigarette and start sniffing it.

So predictable.

Mycroft took out a golden coin and pressed the middle, where the initials L.M stood.

It was time for Lucius Malfoy to arrive.

A sneaky, slippery opportunist who had no morals.

Pureblood fanatic.

Just like him.

Muggles had to stay with Muggles, while wizards should keep to themselves.

He and Mister Malfoy both enjoyed good food and had a thing for money. Lucius sponsored most of their missions abroad, selling and buying weapons and territories, but only to those who were on the 'allowed' list. He was a very useful colleague.

It would be interesting to see Sherlock's first reaction to the Malfoy's wizarding wardrobe. Mycroft knew Sherlock would want such a coat.

Robe.

Out of thin air materialized a man with long, white-blond hair, dressed in deep blue robes, holding the always-there snake-like cane, and Mycroft smirked when Dr. Watson screamed and Sherlock kept staring at the new guest.

"Sherlock, Dr. Watson, this is Lucius Malfoy. One of the few wizards I do have contact with," Mycroft said in a polite, partially friendly tone, instead of the official one he'd use when talking to the Headmaster and Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore who would come with another Professor _—_ Severus Snape.

Speaking of Snape, Tobias Snape had been arrested four times for violence and outrageous behaviour, while Severus had had really good notes in grade school.

Especially talented in biology.

Mrs. Pippentip, who had been ridiculed for her name, had been Severus's favourite teacher.

Mrs. Pippentip had later committed suicide because her husband had cheated with her sister, but that was many years after, when Severus had already "disappeared" from the radar.

Did the wizards really think the government wouldn't notice here and there children stopping visiting school when they turn eleven? Disappearing from the radar of muggle authorities, and tax officers who later in life want to find out why you don't have any income and expenses outcome?

As long as he was in the government, that was not going to happen.

"Pleasure."

Sherlock shook hands with the blond _—_ still gloved _—_ wizard first, and Mycroft saw conclusions run behind his brother's blue eyes.

Lucius, who was now greeting Dr. Watson, was disgusted by the necessity to communicate with dirty muggles, however, his common sense won over fanatic belief soaked with mother's milk. And that was why Mycroft liked the arrogant blond enough to talk to him once in a while.

The information he had received from several sources formed into a solid figure and got a name. The two pictures he had received were outdated, but they proved his point. Now Mycroft knew about the Boy-who-lived-to-wear-the-crown and he wanted the wizards to take that little bastard back before he ordered him dead.

Both Moriarty and Potter had once again vanished from the crime scene, leaving only ridiculous pictures and video footage, mocking the government and both Holmeses.

The last time he had worked with Lucius, British Government got additional 15 billion pounds.

And now the price was much higher:

The entire nation.

Xxx

"All hail the Queen!"

Harry waved his hand in a royal manner, and wiped an imaginary tear, trying not to move too much, so that the crown wouldn't fall off.

He had to behave accordingly, even when breaking into the Crown Jewel safe.

Jim _—_ only Harry called him James, and only in private _—_ was now jumping around, throwing confetti into the air, while dressed in the royal robe and holding a sceptre with a huge ruby.

Rossini's "A Thieving Magpie" was playing loudly, and Harry smirked when he looked into the camera, knowing he would not be recognized by anyone.

All was good.

Xxx

Albus Dumbledore thought himself to be a wise man. Hard to surprise. Now, however, Albus knew his eyebrows were near the white hairline.

"Mister Malfoy, what a pleasant surprise," Albus said, looking at Lucius with twinkling blue eyes that remained as sharp as always, if not more.

If Lucius Malfoy was here it meant one of the two things.

The situation was dire.

Or Malfoy became all muggle-friendly, while being a Death Eater.

While everyone deserved a second chance and a bit of trust in their humanity, some should be treated with care. And Lucius, who was the richest pureblood in Great Britain, had a lot of influence. Albus knew for sure that Malfoy did not reform his views, so that meant something big had happened for him to interfere in muggle politics.

Did it somehow involve Harry?

Xxx

That slippery, hypocritical snake!

Severus tried to keep his face straight, and only his iron will kept the sneer down.

And then a wave of "What if" started to bombard his mind, just like it had all this time with Lily. What if he had told Malfoy about Harry Potter those three years ago when he had met him in the Office for International Politics? It looked like Malfoys had much deeper business routes in the muggle world than they talked about.

He had heard the rumours while still in school, that Malfoys dealt with muggles when it came to investments while denying any interactions to the wizarding society.

What if Lucius could have helped?

Malfoy was now looking at Severus with his grey eyes squinted, one eyebrow raised.

Severus Snape knew that Lucius remembered their meeting at the ministry as well, and hoped the outcome wouldn't be bad.

Xxx

For a second, Mycroft Holmes reminded him of the Dark Lord, when he had just come to him for the Mark. His gaze was as sharp as his mind, and he read your every step.

"What I am about to tell you is classified under top confidential information and cannot be discussed with anyone outside the people present in the room." Holmes looked pointedly at Lucius, and Severus nodded when Mycroft glanced at him for confirmation.

"We have reasons to believe that a magical child is involved with Jim Moriarty, who is the number one terrorist in Great Britain, and possibly the world."

That didn't sound very promising…

"Jim Moriarty."

On the screen before them appeared a picture of a man, and Severus noted his appearance and clothing, emotionless face and burning eyes.

 _Dangerous_.

"And this is the child we have been looking for," Mycroft continued, as he pressed a button, making a new picture appear on the machine

Hmm…

Severus had a feeling he knew something in the features, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

The girl on this picture had long, blond hair, was dressed in a long princess dress, had funny, large sunglasses and looked to be maybe eight years old judging by the height.

The crown on the head was bigger than the head itself.

"Any ideas, Mister Dumbledore?"

"Professor," McGonagall corrected automatically and raised her eyebrows as Mycroft Holmes smirked a nasty smirk.

"And a Professor's diploma is from which officially acknowledged university?" If there was one muggle he could respect, it was this one. And his younger brother, who Severus would have labeled "Legilimens", had he not felt no magical aura around Sherlock Holmes' tall figure.

Two extraordinary Muggles.

"Mister Dumbledore is fine, Minerva," Albus Dumbledore offered kindly while looking closer at the picture that looked to be digital. The evolution of muggle technology was incredible.

Professor McGonagall huffed and straightened her back. "The girl doesn't remind me of any of my older students," she said, receiving a nod from Lucius as well.

Dumbledore, though, kept staring at the picture.

"Well, in that case, how about I show you two more pictures. They are outdated and were taken two years ago, however, I believe it could help you to understand who it is that you see on the picture with the crown," Mycroft's words were stinging and sharp, and Severus noticed the uneasiness making its way into Albus' eyes. Severus himself could feel his heartbeat accelerate.

The picture of the blonde girl was replaced by another, where the same man was standing with his side to the camera, holding what looked like binoculars in one hand, and the other was around a boy's shoulders as he explained something to the child. It wasn't the man who got everyone's attention though, it was the boy nearby, standing with his back to the camera.

Something in his mind started screaming at him at the sight of messy black hair, and Severus took a deep breath as the second picture was shown, the one where the boy was looking over his shoulder, as if sensing the lens's focus , and feeling his legs tremble, Severus leaned onto a chair.

No.

Dear Merlin.

The green eyes on the oh-so-familiar face were cold and calculating, and in one hand the boy held a gun. The lightning bolt scar was visible partially from underneath the messy black hair.

"See anyone you know, wizards and witches?"

Lily's eyes on a face with no emotions, so unlike James Potter, were looking at them from the picture, and Severus heard the moment when Lucius Malfoy had also understood who it was, as his cane fell onto the floor, hands opening in shock.

"Potter?!"

xxx

"It _—_ it cannot be, Albus!"

Minerva.

"Why do I find out that the Boy Wonder had gone missing only now?!"

Malfoy.

"But this is just a child!"

Doctor Watson.

What if Severus had asked Lucius about Potter back then?

"A child who has caused more problems than a whole country of grown men could. This child is an accomplice of Jim Moriarty, and helped him acquire a very dangerous artefact that we have not been able to find for several years, and helped to expand his criminal empire to a previously before unseen size."

It was Sherlock, the other unusual muggle, who voiced everyone's concerns, before his elder brother added to the shock.

"Do you know anything about muggle weapons?" Mycroft asked, smiling sweetly, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Minerva and Albus, who were still shocked, shook their heads, while Lucius tsked and nodded, making Severus doubt he even knew who Lucius was.

Cornelius Fudge was sitting quietly in the corner, his lips trembling, not taking his eyes from the cold stare on the picture.

"Do you know what a bomb is?" Mycroft Holmes asked, and at everyone's nod, he smiled like a shark before getting deadly serious.

"Harry has a bomb?" Professor McGonagall asked, trying to keep her voice steady, and only Fudge didn't hear the panic in it. Everyone else in the room was sharp enough.

Some a bit too sharp, if you asked Severus.

"No, _Harry_ doesn't have a _bomb_." Mycroft was now looking at them with clear eyes, full with rage and contempt, and Severus would have breathed out, had he not felt that something else was coming.

"Then what's the problem, Mr. Holmes?" Lucius was always the impatient one.

Malfoy just addressed a Muggle, and had done so with the use of 'Mister' and in a polite tone. The world was coming to an end.

"Your Harry helped Moriarty acquire not just any bomb, but a nuclear one, large enough to blow up the whole Scotland. It was transported from Pakistan to Great Britain yesterday and we cannot find it. Does it sound like a problem now, Mister Malfoy?"

Silence.

Severus looked at Albus, who was looking more sad than a kicked puppy, and then glanced to Malfoy, whose eyes were wide and whose mouth hung open, and Severus demanded his own jaw to close. Minerva had a hand over her mouth, and Fudge kept staring at them, not understanding what the word "nuclear" meant. He was the only one who didn't get the difference between a bomb and a nuclear bomb.

Dear Merlin, just who was Harry Potter?

Did the boy know about the wizarding world?

Just who awaited them tomorrow?

xxx

The silence was interrupted by a peeping sound that came from Sherlock's mobile, and Mycroft knew who had written his little brother a message even before Sherlock gave him the phone after reading it.

" **Come and play, come and play, or I'll make you pay. Early bird catches the worm. 7 o'cl0ck by the 7th London dock or Tick t0ck, Sherl0ck P "**

Moriarty was making the first move, and it was worse than he had anticipated.

The final game had begun.

 _Xxx_

 _a/n Your opinion would be highly appreciated._


	4. Call me Harry

_Beta: Julie. fjad_

Chapter Four

 **Call me Harry**

The comfortable armchair was making his back itch and his whiskey tasted bitter.

What a horrible day.

"Lucius, I am going to bed. Are you sure you're alright, darling?" Narcissa's blonde head appeared in the doorway, and Lucius nodded, producing a painful smile that was noted by his wife, who had the eyes of an eagle when she saw jewellery, other women near him or his mood swings.

"It's nothing to worry about, dear. Go sleep, it's late. I'll join you soon," Lucius lied without blinking, and when Narcissa had finally left his office, Lucius buried his head in his palms.

Durmstrang or Beauxbatons Academy of Magic?

No way in hell was he going to allow his only child to attend school with that maniac present as well.

Since Dumbledore flat out refused to send Potter to any other school, and Fudge was as useless as always, then Lucius was going to change the school for his child.

Tomorrow the menace called Potter would appear fully, and Lucius wasn't so sure he looked forward to it.

Should they move to France?

His thoughts were interrupted when an owl flew in and dropped the letter onto his table.

2.14 a.m.

Who writes at this time?

Lucius opened the envelope and almost dropped it back.

" **Early bird catches the fattest worm. Am I fat enough, Mr. Malfoy? Meet me at Long Gardens 18, London.**

 **Now or never.**

 **P.S Come alone and tell no one.**

 **Eternally yours,**

 **Harry Potter"**

Fucking hell…

Xxx

His damn curiosity would be the end of him, Lucius was sure, as he stood near the written address, in the middle of the night, looking around for Potter.

What if it all was a joke?

What if not...

Lucius turned around when he heard someone whistle, and then he was looking at the boy with Slytherin-green eyes that held as much humanity as the Dark Lord's eerie, red eyes had had.

The door opened fully, and carefully, Malfoy walked towards it, not taking his eyes from the figure of the boy-who-lived.

"My, my, Mister Malfoy, what a nice robe." Potter's voice was polite, but had a note of mocking in it. No eleven year old spoke like that to him.

Maniac, in one word.

"Mister Potter," Lucius greeted, not taking his eyes from the boy who was now closing the door. He was crazy for agreeing to meet the Boy Wonder alone, and without telling anyone.

They were now in a large, richly decorated lobby, and Lucius looked around, not showing his fear or uneasiness. Potter had a green sweater on, and some dark trousers.

The outcome could either be beyond perfect, or ridiculous if he ended up dead.

"No worries, you'll walk out on your own in any scenario, Mister Malfoy," Potter remarked offhand, tongue bitten in the corner of his lips, eyes squinted.

How did he know?

"And your Dragon will be safe and sound if we manage to find similarities in our…approaches."

"What did you say about Draco?" He'd murder that little shit before he could utter his son's name again.

"I said, Mister Malfoy, that you better listen carefully. I may be a child, but I am Harry Potter. Iceman told you enough about me, didn't he?"

Iceman?

"Mycroft Holmes, your buddy." Potter was now showing no emotions, and Lucius was at loss at what to do.

How did Potter know?

"I wasn't going to make my acquaintances known, but you and those fools Holmeses left me no choice. You shouldn't play in the ground on a cemetery if you're afraid to dig out old bones."

"I'll kill you now and all problems are solved." He was a Death Eater, and no matter what Wormtail thought, they didn't do night dancing parties . They were the bad guys, who loved terror and power.

"Yes, that's very possible, considering your background. But I doubt it."

His background? Just how much did Potter know?

"Everything."

Did…did he read his thoughts?!

"I would await from a pureblood racist more eloquent expressions than what you have produced so far, Mister Malfoy. It's called Legilimency, for your humble information."

THE HELL?!

"Hmm…I wonder how your Draco speaks with such a foul-mouthed racist for a daddy. You really are not the behaviour model, are you, Lucius?"

His wand was out in a second, sparkling with magic, and it was pointed directly into Potter's face that didn't change its expression.

"Nice stick. I'll get mine tomorrow." The voice was childishly happy now, and bored at the same time.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"I am offering my friendship, Mister Malfoy. Simple as that."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

He was so pissed he was going to really murder that weird freak. Legilimency at age eleven?

"I can bring down the muggles, and make sure your child is safe and sound. Be my friend, Lucius. What do you say about that?"

Lucius Malfoy's eyes were drilling the boy-who-lived face, and then he lowered his wand.

"Alright, Potter, what do you want from me?"

A brilliant smile illuminated the boy's face and a twinkle appeared in his otherwise emotionless eyes.

"I need help taking care of my dogs when I am at Hogwarts," Potter said, already walking towards the stairs that led to what only could be dungeons.

What?!

Xxx

"In case you have gotten your information wrong, I am a Malfoy, not a Weasley," Lucius remarked angrily, and almost huffed in addition, all the while taking slow steps towards the dungeon. Potter was ahead and Lucius thought what would happen if he pushed the boy. Would he break his neck?

"Yours will definitely crack."

Just why did he not learn Occlumency the way Severus had?

"And in regards to your smart-ass comment, you could be a Weasley if you had six more children, if you stole that robe and all the rings, and if you bleach your red locks. Are you a redhead with no money and too many children to count?"

Potter did humiliate the Weasleys, and Lucius was torn between smacking the boy's head or patting it.

"If you know about the wizarding world, why didn't you come sooner?"

"And spoil all the fun? Look how you live, Mr. Malfoy. James found out about the wizarding world before I did, and he's a Muggle. Brilliant, rich, but muggle. What does it say about wizarding security?"

"James?"

"Jim."

"I see."

Potter was right. Too many Mudbloods telling about their secret.

"Exactly."

"Stop reading my thoughts, Potter, or I will maim you."

So, Potter was pro-pureblood. Interesting. Very interesting.

"And the nuclear bomb?"

"And what about it? Want to buy one? Then we have to be friends first. I don't go out with strangers."

It freaked Lucius out that he couldn't feel Potter's magic. It was there, but he felt very little. It was deliberately blocked by the boy himself.

They reached a door now, and Lucius thought that he may very well die behind that muggle door, in a muggle house.

"You are a fanatic, Lucius."

"Mister Malfoy for you, Potter."

"You're still a fanatic, Mister Malfoy. You are more afraid of dying in a muggle house, from a muggle weapon than of the death itself. I cannot say I am surprised, though."

The door now fully opened and Lucius saw darkness.

"Lumos."

The tip of his wand was now glowing, allowing to see a bit of the entrance, and illuminated Potter's face that had now a sneer on it.

"I get that you're all old- fashioned, but come on…Use the switch, I don't have a torch here, you know."

Sarcastic little smart-ass. Draco wouldn't have been able to sit for a week after talking to him like that.

Potter entered first and turned the switch on, illuminating the lamps on the ceiling of the long corridor.

"You keep your dogs here?"

He could take them to Malfoy Manor, and make the elves walk the dogs. With that he'd keep his status as a Malfoy _—_ who did not walk dogs, and especially if they belonged to someone else _—_ and have Potter's agreement to cooperate when it came to Draco.

It looked like Potter wasn't very animal friendly, though. Who kept the dogs in cells?

Lucius could see four cells in the end of the hall, and when he made a step closer, Potter's hand caught his wrist.

"Ah, I would suggest not stepping onto the guards, Mister Malfoy. Even if they are your House's mascot, they dislike pushy fans."

The floor wasn't very well illuminated, and when he brought his wand closer to the ground, a scream was torn from his throat, and he almost jumped back.

"This is Daisy. And this is Pooh," Potter explained to the white faced Malfoy while taking one of the snakes onto his arms.

"Peepe and Leila are sleeping, and Micki and Rex are over there." Lucius looked to where Potter was showing to see four huge snakes, in addition to the one on ground _—_ near his fucking feet! _—_ and one in Potter's hands.

Peepe and Pooh? Those were deadly snakes!

"You imbecile! Those are vipers!" Lucius hissed, afraid to make loud noises and looked at that idiot boy who had only one play-pal. Death.

"Are they really?" Potter sounded truly surprised. Didn't he know what kind of snakes he had around him?

Considering who his main influence had been, it shouldn't shock him the way it did.

It looked like the boy was really mad. He needed to get out of here, now!

"Are you a bad, bad viper, Pooh?" Potter was now cooing with the snake, which somehow still didn't bite his moronic head off. Why? Why were the dogs so quiet?

"Haaaaaaaaaryyyyyyyyyy."

The fuck?!

"Would you stop cussing, Mr. Malfoy? I am eleven, after all. What are you teaching me?" Potter was now walking towards the cell from which Lucius had heard the eerie, spooky moaning.

Could muggle dogs do that?

He needed to learn Occlumency. Yesterday.

The snakes were all awake now, and circling near Potter's feet. Bite him!

Potter's eyes were cold as he looked over Lucius's frozen figure, and then the boy hissed.

…?!

It all made sense now. Potter had a gift for Legilimency _—_ which wasn't normal _—_ and he could talk to snakes.

My dear Merlin!

"You can call me Harry."

And then Lucius saw the dogs.

Xxx

It all made sense now. Especially, why Potter had chosen to contact him out of a long list of possible candidates.

It looked like Potter had all the necessary information if he bet on him without worry. He knew Lucius would cooperate.

"This is Horsie."

A thin body of a woman was lying on a dirty floor; the woman's eyes were dull and face had only one emotion: anticipation.

"Potter, that is no dog. That's a human."

"Is it really?" Potter asked him in a mocking tone, and Lucius held his tongue.

Well, it was a muggle.

After the trick with the vipers _—_ which Potter could obviously communicate with _—_ he didn't buy the boy's tricks that easily.

Sneaky little bastard.

Potter snapped his fingers and the woman on the floor started to bark.

The bark was now accompanied by the bark from other cells, and Lucius felt hairs on his neck raise.

"This is Whalie."

A muggle boy, thin and dirty.

"This is Skeletor."

A man with no meat on his bones _—_ only layers of skin _—_ kept on barking while lying on his back, on the dirty, muggle floor.

"And this is Margie-Dargie."

Another almost-corpse on the floor barked in anticipation, and Lucius wished to wake up. He was dreaming.

"Where did you get the Muggles from, Potter?"

"They come with the bonus package. You have one too. Just different." Potter wasn't making any sense. What did Lucius also have? Which package?

"People call it family."

This was Potter's muggle family…

Potter's family…

If he did that to his own family, then what could his enemies expect?

"I like how sharp you are, Mister Malfoy. We're going to be great friends."

Lucius was still in a haze as he watched two snakes slither away at Harry's hiss, and then return, each holding something sparkling in the deadly jaws.

Glass?

"Syringes."

He wasn't even going to guess. The boy was just beyond mad. Lucius knew well what was in the syringe. He had shares.

Drugs. He wasn't a junkie, he was a businessman. And Afghanistan had very nice opium plantations…

"I like your way of thinking, Mister Malfoy," Potter offered before adding with a tiny smile, "Heroin." The boy hissed and the snakes slithered into the cells, giving the syringes to all four occupants of the cells. "I kick them out, and they crawl back, begging to stay here. I cannot say no to the family."

The laughing, green eyes were deadly serious while shining with sadistic joy, and Lucius shivered despite himself.

"So…I hope you understand my issue with the feedings. There is no need to walk them but you have to make sure they get their dosages in time. We don't want them suffering from the withdrawal, do we now? We aren't some heartless monsters, are we, Mister Malfoy?"

"You keep away from my son, and I want a magical oath from you that you won't touch Draco."

"And?"

"And I'll show you a few interesting spells, Harry."

Those _were_ Muggles, after all…

Maybe Potter wouldn't be so bad?

All this dog-theme was a hoax, and Potter was showing him something else than destroyed Muggles.

Potter needed an accomplice.

Hmm…

Xxx

It was seven a.m. and Moriarty was nowhere to be seen.

Sherlock took a breath, and looked around, noting details that normal people would miss, calculating the outcome of the meeting.

"Sherlock, come closer, let's catch some goldfishes together!"

Moriarty was sitting on the dock, feet lowered towards water, and he was holding a fishing rod in one hand, while waving with the other.

Sherlock missed him at first, as Jim's hair was all dirty and not styled like usually, and he had a cheap hoodie on, with similarly cheap trousers and no shoes.

Socks only. One white, one black.

His steps were slow, and as he approached Jim, Sherlock immediately noticed the mad glint in the usually crazy, but stable, eyes. Now they were shining.

"Sit down, Sherlock. We have a lot to talk about, and the clock is ticking."

Jim smiled a friendly smile when he patted the place near him.

He needed to find the bomb no matter the cost.

xxx

"So you're the good guy, and I am the bad guy. You are nothing without me, Sherlock."

Moriarty was having fun, and he needed to stop that. He needed the upper hand.

"And what about Harry?"

As soon as the boy's name left his lips, Sherlock noticed the change in Moriarty's expression.

His weak spot.

Finally he had found one.

"Ah…I see…Iceman couldn't hold it to himself, and decided to share with his little brother, the Virgin. You dislike Harry, just like your big bad brother, am I right, Sherlock?"

"He's not normal, and he helped you for several years. How did you find the boy?"

"Oh...It's a long story. Let's say Harry wished to be found. He's a very nice young man. A lot of potential," Moriarty whispered in mock concern, and then threw his head back and laughed.

"Harry is going to get killed sooner or later and it will be all because of you."

Sherlock saw the opening and grabbed onto the boy's image, as he was the only person Jim Moriarty had at least some feeling toward to.

"You're the good guy, I am the bad guy. We have each other, and Harry would have to find his own toy. I'm not sharing."

"This a game to you, but every game has an end. And yours is coming."

"Wrong, Sherlock, wrong. First, let's get rid of the balance, shall we? I sent Harry away, and Harry complied. Can you do the same with John?"

Sherlock's cold eyes were looking into the laughing face of Jim Moriarty, and he could see how this all was going to play out.

"Send John far, far away, or I will kill him now."

John wouldn't let him alone, he wouldn't leave him like that, and Sherlock thought quickly how to save the life of his dear friend.

"On the other hand, why bother with all the warnings and drama? I'll just kill him, and spare you the troubles. Is that alright with you, Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock's gun was out when Moriarty took out his phone.

"You shoot me, the bomb goes off. You don't shoot me, I order John dead. Haha, what a nice riddle, isn't it, Sherloooock!"

What to do, what to do?

Jim Moriarty suddenly put his phone away and raised his both hands, when the police and special forces appeared on the dock.

"James Moriarty, you're under arrest." Detective Lestrade put Jim's both hands into the cuffs, and turned him towards Sherlock.

"Who is James? I am Richard. Richard Brook. And I am fishing." The smile was full of mirth, the voice was nervous and pathetic, and as Moriarty was led away, he turned over his shoulder and winked at Sherlock.

The phone!

In a second, the left behind phone was in Sherlock's hands and before the smoke started to come out of the device, he saw the last message Moriarty had sent.

Time of the sent message: 6.59 a.m.

" **Bye, Bye, Dr. Watson!"**

NO!

It was 7.27 a.m. now.

"John!"

Xxx

 _a/n thank you for your reviews!_


	5. Diagon Alley

_Please note that the story does not represent the author's point of view, nor any moral or religious beliefs. The author cannot be blamed for anything any of the characters say or do. All mentioned and recognized trademarks belong to the rightful owners, all Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling , all Sherlock characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC. The plot and characterization are mine, but bring me no profit. Sadly._

 _Rating is M for MATURE, not Mickey Mouse._

 _I am not a psychopath, but I write from several POVs, most of which belong to morally damaged characters. Viewer discretion is advised ;)_

 _Beta: Julie. fjad_

Chapter Five

 **Diagon Alley**

' _Falling's just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination'. Jim Moriarty_

—

The white stone was illuminated by the early sunset, allowing some vibrant colours to liven up the otherwise gloomy atmosphere; sunrays were peeping from the early, grey clouds, informing the living that a new day had begun.

The lonely figure of a woman, who was dressed in wizarding robes and a tall hat, was standing quietly near the stone with the engraved words, silent tears almost escaping her iron will.

' _The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._ '

"I am so, so sorry. You gave up everything to fight for what is right, instead of what is easy, and this is how we repay you." Minerva McGonagall took out her white napkin and patted her eyes.

"Lily, James…Harry has been raised by a lunatic that makes even V-Voldemort look sane, and I don't know what to do. You have my word that I will do everything in my power and beyond, to make sure Harry sees the world in a good light, instead of the darkness he has witnessed so far. I won't give up on Harry, no matter what."

A silent tear escaped her sharp eyes that were surrounded by wrinkles, and Minerva took a deep breath, her eyes not leaving the gravestone of her two favorite students.

So brave, so young, so good…And dead because of misplaced trust. She still couldn't believe that Sirius, the same boy who was closer than a brother to James, could have betrayed them like that.

"I will personally keep an eye on Harry, and even if it takes my life, I'll protect him. I swear."

The bushes and a few tree branches moved in the sudden, silent wind, and the clouds above parted, allowing more morning sun to illuminate the cemetery.

For a second, she thought she heard a soft "Thank you" and a gentle touch on her shoulders, but then it all was gone.

Minerva McGonagall took a last look at the tomb of Potters and straightened her hat, before checking the time.

Seven a.m.

The letter would leave Hogwarts at ten. Three hours to go.

Xxx

He was nervous.

Really nervous.

What bothered him the most, was the fact that he was eleven.

A fucking child.

There were many things he wanted to accomplish, but the most important task was to find out how to transfer wizarding power into a muggle. It was madness, but Harry would need Moriarty's help in the future, and he therefore needed magic for James, as that was the only possible way to keep Moriarty interested enough to stay alive. He needed people to take him seriously. And how do you do that when you look even younger than you are?

He needed James as he was the only one who took him seriously and treated him like an adult. Harry had spent almost four years making decisions for himself, and now he was an underage orphan who wouldn't have legal rights for anything before he turned eighteen. Seventeen in the wizarding world.

He needed James, and therefore, he was going to offer Moriarty something much more interesting than Sherlock Holmes.

Magic.

He was an altruist. Sort of.

When Harry had asked his illegal guardian and friend why he wasn't interested in magic, the answer he had gotten in response made him reevaluate a few things.

James was bored and while he was fascinated by the magic, he refused to study its details.

' _Think about it, Harry. It's like watching a movie about a big, happy family, and knowing that you will never get that, no matter how hard you try. It's painful to know you're powerless. I don't want to envy wizards, little one.'_

All the books said the same _—_ there was no way to transfer even a bit of magic into a non-magical person. However, Harry had a feeling that a lot of information was missing from the books, and he needed better sources to find out a way.

One branch of magic was 'mysteriously' missing from the books, and Harry had a feeling as to why.

He needed an expert on Dark Magic. While he had hoped Lucius Malfoy to be one, he quickly came to the realization that Lucius could be useful, but did not possess necessary knowledge.

Too bad Voldemort was dead. Now he had been an expert.

Had Voldemort _—_ nice name, by the way _—_ stayed alive, he was sure the Dark Lord wouldn't have agreed with Harry's approach, but still, everyone had weak points, which one could use while bargaining.

Blood did not matter, but no one needed to know that before Harry was ready. And he was just eleven, and alone.

The furniture started to shake, and voices flooded his head _—_ the snakes, neighbors…He felt as if he could hear the earth slowly twirl around the sun.

' _Stop. I said STOP!'_

His command on his magic was weakened when he was stressed or agitated, and adding a sleepless night, it was in a very unruly state now.

Just wonderful.

The letter would arrive soon, and with it the hordes of wizards, and if James had been correct _—_ and he was always correct _—_ then muggle authorities as well.

Malfoy had taken the dogs _—_ Dursleys _—_ with him, and the house was clean.

Rubbing his eyes, Harry got up from his seat on the windowstill and went upstairs. If before the intervention from the Holmeses, he had wanted to project the image of a street-rat, then now everything had to be played out differently.

Opening his wardrobe, he looked at the hanging clothes.

He needed to look appropriate.

Xxx

"Ooohh…It's like watching "Keeping up with the Kardashians" when you're a refugee in Iraq. However, if you ask me, I am not sure what is worse. The show, or Iraq. "

Mycroft Holmes sneered as he listened to Moriarty explain to him why he didn't get involved in the wizarding world more than he did.

He actually agreed with Moriarty's approach about the wizarding world, and he definitely didn't watch that show. Or any show, for that matter. Except maybe Britain's Got Talent...He rather liked one funny judge there, and it was useful to know what interesting individuals Britain had to offer.

"Speaking of Iraq… Where is the bomb?"

"Ooohh… What bomb?"

"The nuclear one."

"Ooohh… That one…"

"Yes, that one. Where is it?"

"Ooohh… Somewhere around?"

A powerful hit from the MI6 agent made Moriarty fall onto the floor, his bloodied lips stretched in a maniacal smile.

If Mycroft let his brother in, he'd kill Moriarty before they could find out anything. John Watson went missing today, early in the morning, while Sherlock was meeting Jim.

It was a great plan, to attract attention to himself, and partially clean the way for the boy-who _—_ very unfortunately _—_ lived. Too bad for Jim _—_ and Potter _—_ , Moriarty wasn't the only smart one here.

"We'll get a confession from your little friend then." Mycroft knew that Moriarty had somehow grown attached to the freak-kid, but no matter what, he would not let them know where he had hidden the nuclear bomb.

"Ooohhh….You can try, Iceman." Jim Moriarty wiggled his eyebrows before getting another hit in the face.

"And greetings to the Virgin!"

Mycroft closed the door behind him to meet a pair of mad eyes that belonged to his younger brother.

"Let me speak to him, Mycroft!"

"I will not. He won't tell anything, Sherlock. Calm down, we need another approach."

"John is missing, a nuclear bomb is on the territory of Great Britain, the wizard child is free and you want me to calm down!"

Mycroft was about to start a new argument with his stubborn brother, when Petricks ran into the room and offered him a piece of paper.

 **Long Gardens 18**

Well, hello, Mister Potter.

Xxx

" **Dear Mister Potter,**

 **We are pleased to inform you…**

Blah, blah, blah...

 **Term begins on 1** **st** **September…"**

Blah, blah…

The front door was suddenly blown away, and Harry jumped up at the unexpected arrival of wizards. If Malfoy did not know how to use a switch, then it shouldn't surprise him that the wizards couldn't use a doorbell.

A painful groan escaped Harry when he saw the muggle special forces, armed with rifles.

Shit.

He had expected wizards first.

As he was lying face down on the floor, five rifles pointed at his head, he heard the voice of the visitor.

Surprise! Not.

"My, my, Mister Potter, it's such a pleasure to meet you in person."

Iceman.

Great…

Fuck.

Xxx

 **Long Gardens 18** appeared on the old pages, and Severus cursed Dumbledore for not taking the book out of Hogwarts. They all had to get to the Apparition point first.

The pull at his navel had never been more anticipated, and Severus swallowed his panic.

For a second he wondered what Potter was doing now. He hoped they'd catch him off-guard.

Xxx

He apparated to the address, and his wand was out in a second, even before his brain had digested what he was seeing.

Potter was being held between two masked men who were armed to the teeth, and both Holmeses were standing before the boy.

Severus glanced at Albus, whose wand was also out, and then at Minerva, who looked ready to kill as she spotted blood on the boy's face.

They were breaking all wizarding laws now, but it did not matter when the muggles wanted to kidnap Harry freaking Potter.

"Gentlemen, " Albus addressed the muggles, allowing his voice to get its special intonations, which, before, only the Dark Lord _—_ Lords, if you add Grindelwald _—_ had heard.

"Wizards and witches, I am afraid your Boy Wonder is going with us." Mycroft wasn't stupid, so why was he doing what he was going?

"I am afraid that is not possible, Mister Holmes. Harry is going with us, and it is not negotiable."

Potter was now looking at them with his green eyes that sparkled with mischief, but unlike James Potter, who had been a swine, Harry Potter was a nutcase.

"Can I go grab some popcorn?" The green-eyed menace squeaked when one of the armed men hit him behind the knees, making the boy drop onto the floor.

"This is just a child, what are you doing, you atrocious monster?!" Minerva raised her voice and her wand started to tremble.

"A child with a nuclear bomb and a hostage," Sherlock added, with almost no emotions in his voice, while looking in Potter's face, searching for answers.

"What hostage?" Severus had to ask. What had this boy done only in one night?

"Yeah, I would like to know too. What hostage?" Potter asked innocently, looking only at Sherlock.

"John Watson." The way Holmes Junior said it, told all about his thoughts in regards to Harry Potter.

He hated the boy.

"John Watson?" Potter asked from the floor. "The blogger?"

"MY FRIEND!" It was Mycroft who was restraining his younger brother now.

"Aahh…Yes, yes. I remember John. Oooh…But he's not my hostage," Potter said, looking relieved.

Severus did not buy one word.

"Then where is he?" Sherlock couldn't control his rage when the boy opened his damned mouth and stated, as if talking about weather.

"Maybe dead?"

Shit.

xxx

It was six p.m when Albus had finally managed to get them out of the sticky situation with Potter and the Holmeses, and Severus was relieved to see Diagon Alley after that horrible muggle ministry.

Potter had been taken to the ministry to give his testimony, and the boy denied everything. He knew no James Moriarty, and had been raised by drug-addicted muggles who were now 'somewhere high' while abandoning the boy yet again, to be looked after by their neighbour, Richard Brook.

It sounded insane, and Severus knew that no one believed the green-eyed little monster, but only because they knew better. If Potter played that act on unsuspecting people, they would buy it without a second of doubt. Potter was crazy, but he wasn't stupid.

Or he was, but Jim Moriarty's influence merely postponed the effects of Potter's inherited dumbness.

The fact that the boy was a Legilimens at age eleven did not help their cause at all. Potter had too many mysteries around his shady persona to crack in one day, Severus thought as he looked over the boy in question, who just stood there, uninterested.

Severus did not know what Albus and Mycroft had talked about, but soon Potter was released, and allowed to leave with wizards. The younger Holmes had tried to stop that, but Mycroft's word was enough to get Potter free.

And now, they were finally where they were supposed to be all those hours ago.

"I am hungry."

Gritting his teeth so hard that he was afraid he'd need a new pair of jaws, Severus looked at Harry Potter, who wasn't impressed by the wizarding alley, and who looked bored.

Potter was a sociopath.

"It's six p.m, Mister Potter. Eight hours after the time we were supposed to arrive here. You can wait now," Severus said in a low voice, ignoring Minerva's tightly pursed lips and Dumbledore's sad gaze.

"I am a growing child, I need food. What are you, a zero-size model who eats air and grass?" Potter's eyes were shining behind the pair of glasses that the boy had taken out from his pocket after leaving the ministry. Severus was sure that blasted child did not need them at all.

"You speak like that to me again and _—_ "

"Ah, Severus, Minerva, I think we should get Mister Potter his wand, and all other necessary products can be acquired later, before the school term starts." Dumbledore looked at Potter with his blue eyes that twinkled with kindness and curiosity. "And after we get the wand, we can all grab a bite in one of the diners."

A diplomat, like always. Potter nodded his head in agreement, and they all moved towards Ollivanders, drawing attention from the crowds that, thank Merlin, weren't as large as in the morning.

Severus _—_ and Minerva, he was sure _—_ would corner Dumbledore tonight and find out about his deal with Mycroft Holmes.

"Does your group of merry wizards always accompany eleven year olds, or it's just for me, as an exception?" Potter needed to close his trap if he wanted to stay alive long enough to get a wand.

"My dear boy, you know yourself, how important you are for our world. You are Harry Potter."

Yes, Albus, put more gold on Potter's pedestal.

"You are the Boy Who Lived."

And encrust the pedestal in diamonds. Senile, just like he had said.

"Yes, yes. I have read that chapter. But you know what?" Potter turned now to Minerva, and his tone was polite. "Why do you call Voldemort He-who-must-not-be-named or you-know-who?"

Severus saw a pair of grown up wizards _—_ Potter's future fans, no doubt _—_ blanch at the name of the Dark Lord and hurry away from their little, entertaining group.

Too bad for them, it was still unclear who was the bigger threat _—_ The Dark Lord, or eleven year old Potter.

They approached Ollivanders', and Severus was ready to just push the boy inside and then hide in his dungeons and just drink a bottle of whiskey. Or two.

Or three, if Malfoy joined.

What was Lucius doing here, and without Draco?

"Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Severus," Lucius greeted them all before turning his pale eyes at Potter's figure.

"Mister Potter, I presume?"

"Who else has a guard that consists of a Headmaster, a Deputy Headmistress and a Potions Master? You are Mister Malfoy, I am sure. Your hair is legendary even in the muggle world." Potter was crazy but Malfoy did not know that, and Severus had to bite his cheek as the boy stepped closer to Lucius and patted his long, blond hair.

"Ooohhh...So soft and silky. What conditioner do you use? I need one with an anti-frizz quality, as my hair gets all _—_ "

"I hate to interrupt your more than educating conversation, Mister Potter, but would you mind stepping into that shop and choosing your wand?" It looked like Minerva didn't care what hair lotion Malfoy used and was annoyed by Potter's ever-changing mood swings. Or was as hungry as he was.

Blasted Potter.

"Wand, wand...You know who had no wand and was still powerful?" Potter asked Minerva who shook her head.

"It's You-know-who!"

"The Dark Lord had a wand, Potter." Malfoy's sneering voice and intonation said it all, and Severus agreed with his fellow ex-Death Eater. What an imbecile.

"How do you know which you-know-who I am talking about? That's the problem. Just say his name and you will have no need to decipher every time what I meant. I was talking about Doctor Who."

"Doctor who?" Minerva, just drop it.

When Severus had been a child, he used to watch the series with Lily.

"Doctor Who." Potter's poker face made his hands itch.

"Who?" Oh, Minerva, don't be an idiot!

"Doctor Who." He would choose his swine father, Potter senior, over that devil's spawn in a second.

"Who is the doctor?" Are you stupid, McGonagall? Potter is playing with us!

"Stop it!" He knew he was almost hissing, but his patience had its limits, and at the moment it had a long, white beard, otherwise Potter would have been dead already.

Green eyes that sparkled in the evening sun were now turned to him, and Potter just stood there for a minute, not saying anything.

Severus felt a very gentle touch in his mind, and slammed his Occlumency walls down, making that blasted child cry out and hold his head.

Nice...

"Severus Snape!" Before McGonagall could continue, Potter's elbow was taken in Dumbledore's hand, and he moved towards the shop.

"First, the wand. Everything else, later."

Why was Dumbledore so interested in Potter's wand?

xxx

He knew it could be boring choosing new shoes or shirts, but Harry had secretly hoped choosing a wand would be much more interesting.

"Not this one, then. How about this one?"

It was almost eight p.m and he still had no wand and no food.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Harry again asked Mister Ollivander, who now had twenty five boxes on the left side of the table, and forty-two on the right side.

In the middle lay all the new wands for him to try.

Booooring.

Harry took the next wand, waved it a bit and threw it back onto the table.

Even SS _—_ Severus Snape who missed his timeline by a few decades _—_ wasn't commenting from his corner which he shared with the almost sleeping Malfoy.

Lucius was almost drooling, supporting his weight on the wall, Professor McGonagall was sitting on a small chair, also almost asleep, and Dumbledore was the only one standing near him, looking really concerned.

Maybe he should try other resellers? Can you order a wand online?

Too bad Harry couldn't read any thoughts from the old man. He had tested his theory with SS, and his head still hurt.

Occlumency was a bitch.

"Here, try this again, Harry. Holly with a phoenix feather." Dumbledore had been trying to make that damn stick choose him for the last two hours, but when Harry held the wand, he felt nothing.

"That sucks."

Ollivander, who had been looking at Harry with pensive _—_ creepy _—_ eyes, came closer and waved his hand over Harry's head.

A charlatan who couldn't even sell sticks made of wood.

"Mister Potter, why don't you free your magic and allow it to choose the wand for you?"

Oh, man…

If you want anything done, do it yourself.

xxx

Lucius was going to fall asleep, like a homeless creep, leaning against a wall in this small, ancient, dusty shop. Draco's wand had taken two minutes to find, while Potter had already spent two hours and still had no wand.

Lucius didn't sleep this night, having to accommodate the muggles and dealing with other emergency business. He had just thrown the dogs together into a small horse stable in the south of France _—_ not that the muggles would notice the change in scenery with all the drugs in their system _—_ and returned home to find his wife awake and angry.

Lucius couldn't just tell his wife what he had been doing all night _—_ hiding Potter's dogs and doing paperwork for that little shit _—_ so he lied.

And Narcissa knew he was lying, so Lucius had spent the whole day outside, in Diagon Alley, waiting for Potter to show up, which he did, eight hours later.

"Mister Potter, why don't you free your magic and allow it to choose the wand for you?"

So, he had been correct. Potter was blocking his own magic, and Lucius couldn't understand why.

He glanced at Severus, who looked as bored as McGonagall, and then at Dumbledore, who now had a very concerned look on his face.

His precious Boy Wonder would end up wandless. How wonderful…

The air became very heavy and cold, and then something started pushing him towards the ground, demanding obedience. Chills ran down his spine, as Lucius remembered the last time he had felt such magic around him _—_ the thirty-first of October, ten years ago, just before the Dark Lord had lost to Potter.

Severus was as tense as he felt, and Lucius swallowed hard.

Parseltongue, Legilimency and incredibly powerful magic...And mental stability, or the lack of one….

Potter was the re-incarnated Dark Lord or something very similar, he was sure.

The atmosphere had changed, and everyone was awake now. And worried.

Fucking hell…

Even muggles would be able to determine that the boy wasn't normal, and now Lucius understood why Potter had been blocking his magic.

Power radiated from the green eyes, and then Potter turned his palm up and wiggled his fingers.

"Come to me, my wand. Come to meeee, my preciousssss."

If Potter wanted to hide his ability to use Parseltongue, then the boy should be more careful. Lucius could barely understand the last word.

The whole shop was shaking uncontrollably, wands flying in the air, but not coming to Potter's outstretched hand, before one wand appeared in the boy's palm, and after a quick flash of light, everything calmed down.

Hmmm...Lucius knew he had seen the wand before, but where? The carvings that resemble clusters of elderberries running down its length looked very familiar...

He wanted to ask, but then he noticed the horror-stricken expression on Dumbledore's face and his outstretched, old, empty hand.

"Your magic has chosen the wand, Mister Potter, and the wand has chosen your magic. You are now the only master of that particular wand," Ollivander's voice was breaking, and he was addressing not only Potter, but Dumbledore as well.

"Fifteen inches, with a Thestral tail-hair core."

Only then Lucius understood.

It had been Dumbledore's wand before…

Well, well, well...

"Why does it look like anal beads?"

He didn't even want to know how eleven year old Potter knew what anal beads were…If Draco had asked him that, then...Well, had he not been a Malfoy and a wizard, the social services would have taken Draco away long, long time ago.

Severus didn't make any sarcastic remarks, which was highly unusual, and kept looking into Dumbledore's face, unlike McGonagall, who looked ashamed at being in Potter's presence and horrified at what the boy had said.

How did McGonagall know what anal beads were? She looked so prudish…

Lucius almost slapped his face as he imagined naked McGonagall using anal beads on naked, eager Dumbledore, and shook his blond head. Now he'd never get his member up after imagining that...He needed to watch some quality porn before being able to not think about those perverted images. Just why didn't he learn Occlumency?

Well, it wasn't nice to lose your wand, but Albus could get a new one, since they were in the wand shop anyway, and his golden boy had gotten his own, older wand.

What was the big deal? It wasn't like Potter had gotten the Dark Lord's wand, or anything sinister. A normal wand Dumbledore had used himself. What had scared the old fool so much?

xxx

The Elder wand was pulsating with magic in Harry's hand, and Albus could only stare at it.

The wand had chosen one true master now, and Albus did not want to imagine what would happen to the world if Harry did not change his ways.

The boy had an accomplice with a nuclear bomb, and Harry himself now had the deadliest wizarding weapon in his small, childish, palm.

Merlin have mercy on their souls, Albus thought as he looked into the shining, green eyes.

"Well done, my boy. Well done." What else could he say?

And it was only the beginning.

xxx

It was well after midnight, but Mycroft just couldn't sleep, even if his mind and body demanded rest, when Moriarty's bomb was still unlocated, threatening the lives of British citizens.

Millions of thoughts were running through his mind when he heard tapping on the window. Getting up, Mycroft opened the window and let the owl in, allowing the bird to land on his table and leave its heavy package before just as quickly flying back to its master.

He had let the bastard child leave with his kind, but only today. He was nowhere near being done with the boy-who-thought-he-was-above-the-whole-nation. And for his understanding approach, Mycroft now had what he had wanted from the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Chief Warlock from the very beginning.

" _Use it wisely. A.D."_ was written on a piece of paper that was attached to the small vial on which the name of the magical potion was engraved in small letters.

 _Veritaserum._

Mycroft twirled the full vial in his hand and smiled, looking at the illuminated gold fishes in the large aquarium.

I have a surprise for you, Mister "Brook".

And for you also, Mister Harry James Potter.

"The boy-who-lived-to-lose-everything," Mycroft said the new title out loud and smirked at the sparkling in the office lights vial. " _I_ am the smart one here."

xxx

 _a/n Please find a minute and let me know what you think. Who do you like and whom not? I can only guess as you guys don't review, so help me out._


	6. Frenemies

_Beta: Julie. fjad_

Chapter Six

 **Frenemies**

—

It was almost two a.m. and the lake shimmered in the bright moonlight, granting an illusion of serenity for those who needed it the most.

It was a necessary decision to make, and he didn't regret a thing. Harry could not be given the truth potion, as Albus didn't want to destroy the last connection he had to the boy, making Harry hate their kind. As for the muggle terrorist…

Let muggles deal with muggles. Harry was worth much more than a vial of potion.

Albus Dumbledore was standing near the window, looking outside, still deep in thought.

His companion was sitting still like a rock, not moving at all.

"Albus, you have to promise to not keep any more secrets from me," Severus finally voiced his first sentence since Albus had told him about the Deathly Hallows, and one particular wand that was now in the possession of one Harry Potter.

A sad smile stretched old lips, and Albus Dumbledore nodded. "I am an old man, Severus, and I am afraid I cannot deal with everything on my own, like I did before. I need your help. Harry needs your help."

"Potter?" Severus sneered. "What Potter needs is a permanent place in St. Mungo's."

"Harry is not a bad boy, Severus."

"Let me get that straight, Dumbledore. Potter is not a bad boy? Are you completely out of your mind? The boy is a sociopath, and you have witnessed with your own eyes Potter's irrational behaviour. And where are the Dursleys? Are they even alive?" Severus was right, but hope was all they had left. "He might not be completely bad yet, but he definitely isn't the sanest of the bunch; he has no empathy, and adding to that his illegal guardian's influence, what do you get, Albus?"

"I shall stand by my belief that every person deserves a second chance. You should know that better than anyone, Severus."

"Potter is not me, Albus. I didn't have a nuclear bomb and an Elder wand that would respond to insanely powerful magic, and I definitely wasn't raised by a complete psychopath. My father was a bastard, but not a mass-murderer, and look how nicely I lived my happy life."

"Harry has a good heart, like you do. He needs time and understanding."

"You checked that yourself?"

"Lily and James were good people. Harry cannot be the complete opposite, even with everything he went through. He is just eleven."

"Yes, let's wait till Potter blows up the bomb, and what then?"

"The bomb is no longer a threat, Severus."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Mycroft Holmes will deal with the bomb issue before sunrise. There is nothing to worry about anymore."

"And this Doctor Watson?"

"He shall be found today as well."

Dark eyes were drilling a hole in him, and, and for a second, Albus even felt a touch of Legilimency, which quickly left when he raised his Occlumency barriers.

"What have you done now, Albus?"

"I provided Mister Holmes with the potion he had requested in exchange for Harry's freedom."

"I hope that Veritaserum wasn't taken from my storage?" There was no need to explain to a Potion's Master what kind of potion Albus had given to the muggle authorities.

"It was a ministerial vial, Severus."

"It's against the magical law to provide muggles with magical potions, and Veritaserum is second on the list, straight after Amortentia. Both you and I have signed the contract, when we received Professor's degrees, that we shall never provide Muggles with magical potions, no matter the reason. And you are the head Warlock. But law does not matter when it comes to Potter, does it, Albus?"

No, it didn't. He had to win no matter the price.

xxx

"Harry needs our help. We need Harry when Voldemort returns."

"You are lucky the contract isn't magical, otherwise you'd end up as an old, useless squib." Severus sneered at Dumbledore's sad face, which had zero hint of regret on it.

Dumbledore was a double-faced fanatic, and the only reason why the wizarding world was still standing was because of the old man's essentially good heart and a very heavy burden of guilt for whatever had happened in his past. And now, Dumbledore would bend the wizarding rules to fit his created scenario for the boy, with no one to stop him.

"Cornelius approved of that decision, and that automatically cancels my interference as Fudge is the Minister of Magic."

Dumbledore controlled the whole Wizengamot, and one idiot Minister didn't stand a chance against the old man, who was believed to be the most powerful sorcerer of their time.

"I am more afraid that the Dark Lord will adopt Potter, upon seeing a carbon copy of himself. They'll be play-pals, Albus. You cannot really expect the boy to stand against the Dark Lord when he is more likely to join him."

"Why are you against Lily's son?"

"That is low, even for you." Severus pursed his lips and shook his head. "I am not against Potter, I am trying to be a realist. Nature versus nurture, does that ring a bell, Albus? Potter has left his muggle family willingly, otherwise the wards would have alerted us, and he had helped Moriarty out of his own free will. You know that, and I know that. What is there to save, Albus?"

"Harry's soul is pure, no matter what. I believe in the boy, and so shall you, Severus. This is not negotiable. Treat Harry well, or the consequences might be very unpleasant for the whole world."

"And the wand?"

"I hope Harry uses it wisely."

"If you want to know my honest opinion, Albus…" Severus trailed off as he waited for Albus Dumbledore to nod with a curious glint in his again twinkling, blue eyes.

"You're an idiot who plays with fire." Severus held the eye-contact, to make sure Albus got his message. "And when the fire escapes your imaginary control, it won't be just you who will be burnt."

"He has Lily's eyes. Did you notice that, Severus?"

It was a hit clearly under the belt, and it echoed somewhere in his heart.

You bastard.

Solemn, sad, but determined blue eyes closed for a second and Severus Snape got up and turned towards the door.

"Your good intentions will be the end for everyone, Albus. Mark my words." And with that, he left with a twirl of his long, dark cloak.

Xxx

Harry was lying on his back, on the new bed in his new room, and he didn't know what to do.

Hogwarts was magnificent, even if he had just seen the castle in the evening, when their merry band of wizards had brought him here for the night. He was sure Dumbledore was afraid that Mycroft Holmes would simply kidnap him, so the Headmaster had again made an exception and allowed a boy, who wasn't even a student yet, to stay in the castle. He was allowed to stay in the muggle world as no official charges had been pressed, but Iceman did not play by the rules.

What did Dumbledore offer Iceman to let him go today? If only he could already leave Hogwarts and find out...

He was in love with the old castle, but there was one big problem: he couldn't block his magic while on the territory of Hogwarts.

Happy Birthday to me.

He was so tired, Harry thought before his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

' _Avada Kedavra!'_

 _Green light was accompanied by the feeling of flight and joy, red eyes looking at him with horror, flying motorcycle, and the ring with a large, round stone, an image which was accompanied by the hissed word…_

' _Harry…'_

Harry shot up in his bed, soaked with sweat, and looked at his watch: five a.m.

Trying to get rid of the metallic taste in his mouth, he took a sip from the glass on the nightstand, and yawned.

The hissing from the dreams was still there, somewhere in his mind, and Harry bit his lip, trying to remember where he had heard the name before.

Who were the Gaunts?

Xxx

Wizards were lucky that muggles didn't know about their existence. Had the secret gotten out…

Three drops of only one potion solved their problem, and Mycroft was ready to find out what other potions he could use for the well-being of the nation.

He still had enough Veritaserum to find out a few international secrets that could potentially threaten national security, or bring enormous advantages on the world arena. He had thought of taking the vial with him to the United Nation's assembly, but it would lead to a world catastrophe if everyone started telling the truth, so Mycroft had crossed out the idea out.

He could meet some people privately, though…

And when the potion would end, he'd have Boy Wonder to bargain for. If Dumbledore refused to cooperate, Mycroft would order the boy to be shot on the spot. Eleven or not, no one played with the nation he had promised to protect.

A large container was opened by the specialists, and there was the nuclear bomb with a timer that wasn't on.

Strange.

John Watson was standing near Sherlock, alive and well, and Mycroft was pleased. Moriarty did not stand a chance when he had been forced to take the serum, and now their problems were solved, and the game could go on.

In the morning he'd sign the documents for the court, and then Potter and Moriarty would officially lose, before the whole nation.

He'd like to see the reaction of the wizarding population to Harry Potter being the accomplice of a well-known muggle terrorist. It was just too funny.

It was an emotional thing to do, to press charges so early, but he wanted it so badly...

What a good day it was turning to be.

Xxx

His face hurt, his beaten body pulsated with every movement, and the straight-jacket didn't add to his comfort, but he loved it.

Who ever said the British Intelligence Services weren't very friendly, was wrong.

He rather liked his solitary small room, with walls made of soft material, and the chain on his neck and hands.

You have to enjoy the pain to overcome it.

He had to give credit where it was due, and it looked like Iceman was in the lead. Officially.

Not officially, Holmes was in for a nice surprise, but no one needed to know that before the time is ripe.

Such a smart adversary, and to make such a simple, stupid mistake…

Tsk, tsk…

Jim Moriarty smiled through the pain, and coughing blood, he laughed as he imagined Sherlock's and Iceman's faces when they would find out the whole truth.

Yes, he had hidden the tritium nuclear bomb in Cardiff, and it was already in the hands of British government.

Yes, John was alive and well, and had just been kidnapped .

Yes, Harry had helped him willingly, and he had never, not once, made Harry do anything against his will.

The three most important first questions that anyone would have asked.

Iceman asked all the right questions, but when it came to magical potions, Moriarty knew a little bit more than the others. Maximum questions asked from a muggle was four, after which the muggle lost consciousness and couldn't be questioned under the truth serum for another day, as then his heart would simply stop, and he knew both Holmeses were too greedy to allow him to take his secrets to the grave if they could easily crack them. Apparently, the wizards had warned Mycroft of this possible side-effect as only four questions were asked before he was left alone in his cell, drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness.

He had known about Veritaserum for a long time, and he knew it was possible it would be used against him.

The problem with the potion was that you had to ask absolutely perfect questions to get clear answers, especially if one's mind control was as perfect as his. Harry's aggressive Legilimency had taught him how to arrange his mind-order, and he could resist Veritaserum, but only a bit.

And only a bit was all he had needed.

Three questions had been correct, but the fourth one was wrong. Emotions and business never mix well together.

When Sherlock Holmes had asked him if he had any other bombs, he had said no.

Which was correct.

 _He_ had only one nuclear bomb.

And two chemical ones.

Since he wasn't Harry, he therefore had no more nuclear bombs.

Since nuclear bombs worked differently than the chemical warfare, it meant that the answer was correct; it was the question that was wrong. Sherlock should have worded the question "Do you or Harry have any more weapons of mass destruction?" and then he would have gotten a "Yes".

He had kidnapped John to secure one question, gave away information about the bomb before leaving Pakistan, and allowed Mycroft to find out about Harry for the third question. He was hoping Sherlock would ask the last question instead of his brother, as John's disappearance and Harry's act had to disturb Sherlock's perfect mind, and push him to make the mistake. Mycroft suspected something was off, but until he could be questioned again, it would remain a secret.

Oh, Sherlock, Sherlock…

Daddy wins this round.

Xxx

"Oh, Lucius, I am so relieved, so relieved." Fudge kept on his rant, but Lucius wasn't listening anymore.

Veritaserum…

That old coot Dumbledore was playing without any rules, and he had full support from the wizarding ministry. And now their Chief Warlock had simply given the Truth serum to a muggle.

A very dangerous, smart muggle, which was even worse, if you asked him. The old fool was insane and he had to be taken out, but how, if even the Dark Lord couldn't remove Albus Dumbledore's influence from the magical world?

Potter, however, could be the necessary person to overthrow the old fool, and establish a new order.

Lucius had to choose his side, and he had to do it now. Potter was pro-pureblood, while Dumbledore was pro-muggle, and no matter how crazy Potter was, he would grow up to be a very powerful wizard with a lot of criminal connections and influence. It was a gamble of apocalyptical _—_ for all the Malfoys _—_ proportions, and it could either turn out to be his biggest win, or his biggest mistake. If he wanted to be honest, it was so boring being good.

Yes, he broke many laws and his money was "bloody" _-_ except for the twenty-five high-quality candy stores in Britain _—_ but that was it. He had to behave well at home and he had to behave well while outside.

In the night he slept, so he could be bad only in his dreams, as in the morning he had to behave again.

Looking at the rising sun, Lucius Malfoy made up his mind.

All-in.

xxx

Minerva drank her tea and observed Harry Potter, who was sitting at a table in the Great Hall, twirling his full cup of pumpkin juice, but not drinking it.

Albus, Severus, Hagrid and Quirinus Quirrell were the only ones present at breakfast, and they all kept staring at Harry's figure. Hagrid had gotten a polite "Hello" when he ran to hug Potter.

"My dear boy, is something the matter?" Albus asked Potter and was rewarded with a heavy sigh from the boy.

"I need my milkshake," Potter replied while pushing the glass with pumpkin juice further away from him.

Styled black hair that was still naturally messy reminded of James Potter, while the eyes were definitely Lily's.

"Drink juice, Potter, it's healthier for your brains. Merlin knows you need all the help you can get." Severus's biting remark got a frown from Albus and a tiny smirk from Quirrell, while Harry simply glared.

Oh, Severus...He had been like that since he was eleven.

"Now, now, Severus. Mister Potter is a guest here before he gets sorted, and if a milkshake is what it takes to start the day, then why not?"

Minerva silently shook her head, still angry at her old Professor, who had refused to share any information when she had cornered him yesterday.

Harry's brilliant smile was now directed at Dumbledore, who looked as happy as Harry, especially when a house-elf appeared before the boy.

Xxx

He was fascinated.

This was the boy-who-lived?

This boy was their Savior?

He wanted to take off the turban and just laugh in Dumbledore's face, but alas, he had to wait.

The boy _—_ Harry _—_ was now ordering a milkshake from a house-elf, going through the ingredients one by one.

"Take strawberry ice-cream, but not sorbet, and add 3.8% cold milk. Fresh, by the way. Then add a bit of whipped cream, to give a rich flavour, and then a drop of peppermint liqueur. Mix it well, and then add a slice of lime to the side. Not lemon!"

The house-elf's large eyes were almost the size of its head, as the creature silently listened to the order.

"DID YOU WRITE THAT DOWN?"

Potter's demanding scream was sudden, and he heard McGonagall choke on her tea, while all he wanted to do was laugh out loud.

Potter was as sane as he was.

"Harry, the elves work for free because they enjoy it, so please, we have to treat them with respect." Senile old fool who couldn't see further than his long nose.

"For free? Like slaves? Wow." Potter's mood swings were even bigger than his own, and with morbid curiosity Lord Voldemort watched through the eyes of Quirrell as the pinkish drink was brought to the awaiting boy.

His gaze did not leave Harry until he saw one more person enter the Great Hall.

Well, well, well...Luciusssss.

Xxx

Severus wanted to strangle Potter when he saw Lucius walk in. No matter where he looked, Malfoy was now everywhere.

Malfoy was playing a game Severus did not understand yet, and that meant he had to keep an eye on his slippery friend. Dark eyes were watching the figure of Lucius move closer to where they sat, when Severus saw something that made him feel very uncomfortable.

Malfoy had looked Potter directly into the eyes before greeting him with a nod and simple "Mister Potter".

Lucius always tried to avoid eye-to-eye contact with him, Dumbledore and the Dark Lord because of Legilimency, but knowing that Potter was a Legilimens as well, Lucius locked their gazes for a few seconds anyway.

Why?

Before Severus could think any further, he had to protect his face when all the windows in the Great Hall exploded and the glass flew in every direction.

Thank Merlin it was summer and the hall was empty.

Taking out a sharp shard from his hand, Severus tried to suppress the urge to hurt the boy.

"Sorry. Gases," Potter explained as he remained seated, sipping his milkshake, not bothered by the explosion of his magic.

What had happened?

What did Malfoy say to Potter for him to lose control like that?

"No worries, my boy. I can totally relate to your little problem." Dumbledore smiled, while removing the glass from his beard and restoring the windows with his new wand.

Gases, my arse.

xxx

Harry was pacing his room, wondering what to do.

Mycroft Holmes had Veritaserum and had used it on James.

Lucius Malfoy earned his son a few extra years today, and Harry patted himself on the head for correctly choosing the first ally.

The weird wand was in his hand, as he twirled it slowly _—_ a new nasty habit _—_ and he thought about his plans. He was so, so bored. Tomorrow he'd know if he could live in the muggle world without the outcome of being kidnapped. He had a meeting with the Headmaster at three, and it was nine a.m.

He needed to learn magic, he needed to know spells to help himself and James.

Now, he knew zero.

Well…actually, that was wrong. He knew one spell, he just didn't know what it did in detail. While he had read a lot about potions, history and culture, spells did not fascinate him, as he had needed a wand first.

A house-elf appeared in his room, offering him a new glass of his milkshake, and Harry bit his lip.

"Say, what's your name?" He asked the house-elf which was now almost crying from joy, its large eyes looking at him in adoration.

"I am Tinky, Harry Potter."

"Hi, Tinky, I am Harry, but you already know that. Can you help me learn something new?"

The happy elf nodded herhead so fast, Harry was afraid it'd fall off.

"How about you stand over there, Tinky, and I'll try a spell, alright, buddy?"

Harry pointed to the place where the house- elf should stand and levelled his wand, wanting to find out what the spell did exactly.

"Are you ready to fly, Tinky?" Harry asked the now frightened elf, and pointed the wand at the creature.

Now, what were the exact words of the spell?

Ah, yes.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

A flash of green light, and Harry almost fell onto the floor from the rush of magic.

Managing to compose himself, he looked at the elf, which was now lying quietly on the floor.

Huh? Why didn't it fly like he remembered from the dreams?

The house-elf's eyes were open and looking at the ceiling, and the tongue hung from the side of the opened mouth.

Harry poked one eye with his wand, and sat onto the floor, next to the corpse he would have to hide now.

Shiiiiiit.

xxx

He wanted to see Potter, as the boy fascinated him, so he was standing near the door, ready to knock, when he heard muttering from the other side, and casting a magnifying spell, Lord Voldemort listened quietly.

It was just after breakfast.

"Damn wizards with their idiotic spells."

A loud thud later Potter continued, "No, Tinky, this drawer is a bit too small for you."

Tinky?

A sound of broken glass was accomplished by cussing, and then by a repeated loud banging.

"Why are you so stiff, Tinky? Get the fuck in!"

Interesting...

"How about the fireplace, huh? Are you cold, Tinky? Don't worry, uncle Harry will warm you up."

What?

"Where are my matches when I need them? James said to be prepared no matter what, and what is the first thing I do when I'm on my own? I don't even have a knife. Bummer."

Insane, just like he had thought.

"Why are you being so uncooperative, Tinky?" He heard Potter romp around the room and curse a few times more.

Fascinating what vocabulary the boy had at age eleven!

"Anyway, Tinky, I think I'll have to put you here first and then we'll take a walk, alright?"

Quirrell took a step back when the door opened and he saw Potter with a bag behind his back.

"Ooohh...Hello, Professor."

Xxx

Professor Quirinus Quirrell was looking at him as if he had grown a new head, and Harry frowned. Was his hair all messy again? Then again, this guy smelled of garlic and looked retarded, so who was he to judge?

He needed this Professor Quirrell to get lost so that he could get rid of the body. Thank you for not being SS!

As far as he knew, all Legilimenses were accounted for, so there was no need to worry about this ugly character.

Concentrating, Harry looked into the eyes of his future Professor and almost screamed when his mind locked with another.

' _Hello, Harry.'_

Harry saw the same man he had seen in his dreams, only he had no solid body and was sitting _—_ if you can put it that way _—_ in another man's brains.

Yuck.

Harry wanted to severe the connection between their minds, but he couldn't when the pull from the other side was so powerful.

' _I think it's time we have a talk, Harry Potter.'_

The connection was broken by the Professor as he pushed Harry into the room and closed the door, adding a few spells.

"Who are you?" Harry asked the man, who was now staring at the contents of the bag, which had fallen open when Harry had dropped it.

"What is this, Potter?" Professor wasn't stammering, like before, and his voice was clear and commanding.

"This is Tinky. She's tired, so I decided not to wake her up…" Harry trailed off when Professor's foot kicked the bag and the dead elf rolled onto the floor.

He was in so much trouble now…

The Professor's eyes were shining, changing colour from brown to red, and the man looked very close to laughing.

"My, my, Mister Potter…"

"Who are you?" He asked again, not knowing what to do with this man who had two minds.

Why were the fates so against him? He knew no spells, he had only one ally, his friend was being tortured under Veritaserum, he had killed _—_ accidently, mind you _—_ the house-elf and got caught while in action, and all in all it looked like shit from every position…

"I am Lord Voldemort."

Looking into the red eyes that held power and knowledge, Harry closed his mouth.

He would say he was shocked, but considering the books were full with propaganda, it wasn't a miracle that the main villain was alive and relatively well, instead of being dead.

Just look at Hitler and his dogs, who most likely had managed to escape to Argentina…

If Voldemort was alive, it meant all his plans had to be changed. Not that it was a bad thing, considering the amount of shit he had managed to create in just two days.

"Say, do they teach Dark Lords how to make corpses disappear?"

A few seconds of silence made Harry really nervous, especially when those red eyes didn't leave his face.

"They teach much more than that, Harry. Much, much more." A wave of the wand and the bag with the dead elf was gone.

"Bye, Tinky," Harry said to the empty space and saw a smirk directed at him.

Maybe he'd have two accomplices now, one of them having the needed knowledge? His own, personal encyclopaedia of wizarding magic…

Ooooooh….

What a good day it was turning out to be.

xxx

 _a/n Thank you for your reviews. I am invested in this story, and it's not my first story, so I won't abandon it just because only 1 percent of the readers review. I don't ask for much, just your opinion regarding the plot, characters and the story in total._

 _Elisa Mirror- Just like you requested :) Mr. Voldemort is all yours :) And thank you. Seriously ;)_


	7. Until we meet again

_Please remember it's AU, so the time of the release of the songs, or any recognized trademarks has been shifted to fit the AU world._

 _Rating is M._

 _You have been warned._

 _The book cover for the story is made by Ibuzoo. Look at the cover, it fits the story. Thank you, Ibuzoo :)_

 _Beta: Julie. fjad. Thank you so much!_

 _My friend, Laura, this chapter is for you._

 _For those readers who are not familiar with Sherlock's world: here is a small description of who Jim Moriarty is, from Bakerstreetwikia. I based my Moriarty on the original one._

" _A criminal genius, Jim Moriarty appeared to be an insane, sadistic and psychopathic individual. He exhibited the following traits: extreme intelligence, grandiosity, incapacity for remorse, arrogance, and an unhealthy degree of self-confidence. He also appeared Machiavellian. Much like Sherlock, he had a sarcastic, cynical, albeit childish sense of humour but unlike Sherlock he was also sadistic and often spoke in a tone that would intimidate or annoy his opponents. He had an incredible capability for changing his tone of voice and behaviour several times in a single sentence for psychological warfare - ranging from serenity, humour, mockery, childish, laid-back, to violence. Because of this, Moriarty is extremely difficult to read and anticipate."_

—

Chapter Seven

 **Until we meet again**

" _I'm gonna pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocket. I - I - I'm hunting, looking for a come-up. This is fuc_ _ **—**_ _"_

The singing stopped when the radio station changed by itself, and now they were listening to the weather forecast.

"Pumpkin, why did you do that?" The driver looked at her from the rear-mirror, his eyes leaving hers in reflection to check on the road.

"The song does not fit the scenery." Looking at the gorgeous purple field and the smell from the opened windows of the fresh, lavender aroma, and the light Mediterranean breeze, caressing her tanned face, the sounds of nature were much better than any song.

"But, pumpkin…"

"No, dad."

Hermione returned to the book she had to read for the program, so she decided to reread it, while they drove in Provence between the lavender fields. She had watched the purple fields that smelled divine for a few minutes, fascinated, but now she had something more important to do.

Mom was sleeping in the front seat, and dad was now looking into the rear-mirror, but not at her, and then his gaze switched to the side-mirror.

"Whoa, Hermione, look at that car. It's coming our way." Jonathan Granger sounded excited and a ten year old Hermione turned in her safety chair and looked out of the windows.

They were driving on a road in one of the villages in the south of France, but it wasn't the scenery that fascinated her dad. It was the black sports car that had an orange stripe at the bottom, and looked really expensive, coming quickly closer to their small Peugeot. The speed allowed was one hundred kilometres per hour, but this car drove much faster.

"Hey, look where you're going!" Jonathan screamed as the car started to overtake him from the right, pushing their car onto the counter lane. Hermione grabbed her seat's handle as she didn't know what to do, when the car started to swing on the road.

"Daddy!" Hermione screamed when the front lights of a coming car shined ahead, and their car went strong to the right, pushing back onto the correct lane and into the back of the sports car.

They stopped a second later, but it felt like eternity. Jane Granger, who had been awake for the last few seconds, turned and looked at her only child. "Hermione, are you alright, darling?"

"Are you fucking mad?" Her dad never swore, and he must have been really scared as well. Now he was getting out of the car and walking towards the black and orange sports car that had also stopped.

Hermione could see everything, and when the door opened, she couldn't believe her eyes. A boy, younger than herself, was coming out of the driving seat _ **—**_ and she saw the wheel on his side _ **—**_ , while the passenger was a man, who looked like the boy's father.

"What in the gods' name is this?!" Her father was still looking at the boy, while Hermione had already noticed three additional cars that had also stopped behind the sports car.

The boy had a baseball hat with a Minion on it and yellow sneakers, while the rest of his clothing was black, and he knelt to see the damage, not paying attention to her father.

The boy's father was wearing a business suit with an orange tie, and he looked very smart for someone so irrevocably stupid.

Who could allow a child to drive such a car at such speed and with such life-threatening situations but an irresponsible parent?

"Do you speak English?" If they were British, she'd be ashamed for her nation, but somehow she doubted it, and all Hermione could do was shake her head after opening her window to hear better.

"Deutsch." The boy's possible father confirmed her thoughts , looking at the setting sun, while his possible son inspected all the damages. It wasn't a very big dent, but it was there, and the scratches…

"Oh, Jane, why do we go to France learning French and not German? I speak French. And English." Jonathan almost whined at his wife, who was now also outside, before turning back to the man and the child. And the three additional cars she could see.

"This is a child. A baby." Hermione almost snickered at the disbelieving look on the boy's face as he turned to look at her father.

"Ich?" The boy's high voice really brought out a smile onto her face, as she understood his "Me?"

Hermione watched her father throw his hands in the air before he managed to calm down and pursing his lips, glare at the man in the suit.

"You cannot be so irresponsible!" Jonathan almost screamed before turning to Jane, looking for support. "What kind of idiot do you have to be to let a child drive at all, not speaking of the dangerous speed and style? Jane, who can be so stupid?"

She felt better now, when her dad was showing this crazy family what justice meant. She couldn't wait for the police to come. Mom was already looking for the number in her phone, when Hermione heard the first shot. Then her father's cry, followed by the second shot.

Hermione screamed and the echo of it resounded between the lavender fields.

Her father was on the ground, crying in pain as he stared at his shot knees, and the man in the suit held a gun in his hand.

"I don't shoot you in the head only because you're partially right. As a parent, I understand it and therefore, I also carry the heavy burden of responsibility. My son made a mistake. Again."

Hermione could barely breathe from horror and terrible fear for her mom and dad, looking at the obviously British psychopath.

"I always, always tell him to do that, but does he listen? Our children are our sins, don't you think so? We love them so much and give them everything, and they are the only ones who we do everything for without asking for anything in return, and what do they do when they grow up?" The man pointed the gun towards their car, and her mom started to cry.

"Come out, little girl. You can help your daddy by answering a few questions. Deal?" He frightened her, he really did, but she loved her dad more, so Hermione took off the belt and hopped down through the now-opened door.

"Hermione, stay where you are!" was followed by "Hermione, return into the car, immediately!", but she didn't pay them attention, concentrating on the man instead.

"Good girl. Now, Hermione, tell us, what rule did my son break?" The man asked the question and Hermione thought carefully about what to say to a psychopath with an armed guard in the middle of lavender fields after he had shot her father. Twice.

"He drove irresponsibly. He should have kept the speed to the allowed limit and not tried to overtake a car from the right, especially where it wasn't allowed to overtake, while endangering the lives of innocent people."

"And?" It was the son who asked, and Hermione looked closer at the figure of the boy.

The cap hid the boy's face partially, but Hermione could see his green eyes glare at her.

Shortie.

"And you're too young to drive in the first place." Hermione added, her voice setting lower towards the end, when she saw the man in the suit shake his head.

"Again and again, I repeat and repeat, but he always, always forgets. FUCK IT!"

The man's scream caught her off-guard, just like her mom, who screamed before closing her mouth at the aim of the gun. Dad was trying to stay quiet, but looking at her and mom with an expression full with love and worry. And pain.

She had to cooperate, but she didn't know what the man wanted to hear, so when three armed men appeared out of the nearby parked car and moved towards them, Hermione moved closer to her mother, hugging her tightly.

"What the hell? What did I forget again? I had the belt on!" The boy screamed at the man while kicking the sports car.

Hermione and her family were moved by the guards towards the lavender fields on one side, further away from their rented Peugeot.

She had never felt fear like that, hugging her mom and supporting her dad's weight as he sat up.

The man in the suit shook off his jacket and took a baseball bat that had a metal head, and moved towards their blue car.

The father turned to his son and pointed with the baseball bat towards the windshield of the rented Peugeot. "This can happen to your car when you don't want it if you forget one thing." Hermione listened with held breath, clutching her mom's hand.

The man swung the bat and the next second the sounds of broken glass interrupted the serenity and charm of lavender fields, and then again and again, not stopping before all the windows were broken.

"THE FUCKING BLINKER!" The man roared and smashed all the blinkers, both in the front and in the back, before quickly moving towards the sports car and demolishing the blinkers as well.

"Oh maaaan…" The boy moaned and hid his face in his palms.

"Drive how you want, but THE BLINKERS MUST BE ON when you perform an action of overtake! WHAT'S SO DIFFICULT ABOUT IT?!"

Hermione knew that roar would forever stay imbedded in her mind, together with the insane, brown eyes and the pissed off expression on the lunatic's face.

"Hey, wait a minute now! This is my car, and now it's ruined. Just like the last one. And the one before that. I HAVE NOTHING TO DRIVE!" The boy sat onto the ground and started to sob. Theatrically, for everyone to see.

"Oh, oh, HJ, come on, I'll buy you a new one! A better one!" The man was scratching his head with the muzzle of his gun, quickly calming down from the screaming match with his son, who was now looking at his father with large, watery, green eyes.

"It was my new Bugatti Veyron, your present for my birthday," the boy was now shaking his head, crying "oh, whyyyy", his father was looking at his distraught son with a small smile on his now relaxed face, still holding the gun in his hand.

Psychos, both of them.

"I'll get you three new cars, tomorrow. " The boy's wailing suddenly stopped, and he _ **—**_ HJ, or so the man called him _ **—**_ got up from the ground, and kicking his Bugatti, he happily went behind the wheel of the now partially crashed sports car.

"Come dad, let them be."

Hermione was barely breathing, clutching her mom's and dad's hands, when the man with the gun rocked on his heels and nodded, putting the gun away.

"Was a pleasure meeting you. Have a nice stay in France," the man added before climbing into the passenger seat and taking out his mobile, not looking at the road at all. "Let's go, HJ. Pedal to the metal and don't forget the blinkers, even if they are broken."

"Aye, captain!" Hermione could only hope that this was the end, as the Bugatti turned around and with wheels turning faster than normal, it took off, roaring, with the rest of the cars one by one following it.

They drove away.

"Mommy, daddy…"

"Oh, Hermione, baby, you're so brave, my girl. So, so brave," her dad was muttering while also sobbing, just like her mom and her.

Hermione was shivering from fear but she had to take a grip. She turned to her father to inspect his wounds and call the police if she found a working mobile, when she heard the roar of a very powerful motor, and it was coming closer.

They were coming back to kill them.

"Run, Hermione. Run to the fields and hide!" Her mom's desperate plea was pushed aside as Hermione shook her head. She wouldn't leave without her parents.

They couldn't hide in the fields, as her dad was wounded, and Hermione heard her mom whisper "I love you" to her and dad, not sure if they would survive the outcome.

A second later the car returned and the man got out of it, while the boy rolled the windows down, and looked at them from behind the steering wheel.

"Tell me, did you not see my car coming? You saw it, I know you did." The boy was now addressing her dad while the boy's father took out a long, thin candy and started to bite it piece by piece.

"We wanted to leave, but we couldn't really leave you all alone here. Dad is so unpredictable!"

The man laughed when Jane started to plead for Hermione's life.

"Hey, dad!" HJ screamed at his father and made a motion with his hand, that his father understood immediately and moved to the side, and then the Bugatti's engine started to roar.

"If you see my car, then you get the fuck out of my way. When I am on the road, the road is mine!" The boy barked at them through the opened window and then Bugatti took off, speeding and crashing into the rented Peugeot, before driving in reverse and repeatedly hammering the heap of metal that used to be a car.

The Peugeot was now lying on its side, and the last hit from the Bugatti made it roll onto the lavender fields, and the boy finally stopped demolishing both cars.

"I was driving away and the car was humming with irritation, so I had to return. Hate nervous cars!"

The boy was now also out and came now closer to the them, squatting near her dad's legs.

She was so afraid…

"Please, we won't tell anyone!" Her mom's voice was shaking, and Hermione squeezed their hands tighter.

"Well, of course, you won't! What is there to tell?" The boy's father now held something in his hand, other than a gun, and he stretched it out so that the boy could take something from his palm.

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked, trying not to show just how afraid she was. Not for her life, but for mom and dad.

A pair of arms suddenly ripped her away from her parents, and Hermione started to scream when she and mom were dragged away from her father and the psycho-boy.

"Don't hurt my daughter!" Jonathan begged the boy and sobbed, when one of the boy's hands gripped his shot knee.

"Why would I hurt her, eeem…" The boy trailed off and looked after a pause at one of the guards who was now looking through mom's wallet. "Jonathan and Jane Granger," the guard said while going through the papers in the wallet.

"Yeah, why would I hurt the kid when you are the irresponsible one, Jonathan?"

Hermione wished for her abnormal abilities to appear now and protect her family, but alas, nothing was happening.

"I-I?" Her dad was sweating from the blood loss, and Hermione was ready to pass out from the tension.

"Of course you! Look what you've done to the cars, you mad junkie! And your kid was in the car as well!"

Hermione's and Jane's screams sounded at the same time, when the boy stuck a needle into her dad's neck, and emptied the syringe before moving his palm slowly over her dad's arms.

"Jonathan!"

"Dad!"

"Santa Claus!"

Hermione's teary eyes were looking into the laughing green eyes, and she had never wanted to hurt someone as much as she wanted to hurt that boy.

"Why Santa?" The boy's father asked, mock-whispering, as he also squatted down, near the boy.

"I like his reindeers, they don't cause crashes and have no blinkers for you to yell about." The boy stuck out his tongue at his father, who rolled his eyes and muttered something about delicious reindeer meat, and how he liked it mid-rare.

Her mom was sobbing silently, understanding that no help would come, as the few cars they had seen on the road quickly sped away upon seeing the parked black jeeps.

Mafia.

Her father's eyes rolled and he started to drool.

"Look at this grown up adult, Junior. Drugged out of his mind and driving a car with his family in it. What do I always say?" The man turned to the boy, his voice relaxed and curious, face kind and smiling.

"Put the blinker on?"

"WHAT BLINKER IF I'M TALKING ABOUT YOU?!" The yell was insane, and Hermione saw some spit land on the boy's face, as his father almost foamed at the mouth from the rage, that left as quickly as it came, when the man's son rounded his green eyes and bit his lip, wiping his face with a tissue.

It looked like normal conversations were something this family did not practise, at all.

"Oh, oh...Use drugs wisely." The boy's voice changed to mimic his father's ever-changing intonations, and the older man lightly bumped the boy on the head, smiling now.

"Correct. Now this is what 'unwisely' looks like." Hermione swallowed the tears as the boy started hiccuping from the laughter, as his father made a face that resembled the mask of pain and obvious intoxication on Jonathan Granger's face.

Bastards.

"Young master, your milkshake." One of guards had brought a tall glass full with pinkish contents from one of the jeeps.

"Did you add the whipped cream?" The boy asked the large man as if he were a simple servant, which he probably was, considering the title 'young master' and nervous gaze. "I did, sir."

"Did you hear any mixer working, dad?" HJ turned to his father, who shook his head with serious eyes, looking at his guards with a frown.

Where was this boy's mother? Even a devil's spawn had to have a mom, but probably not this one.

Hermione didn't hear any mixers, but then again, she thought she wouldn't be able to hear anything for a long time, as the roar from the engine was still in her head.

"Did you use the mixer? DON'T LIE TO ME!" The only one who didn't react was the father of the boy, while the rest flinched at the high notes.

Why couldn't the two speak normally, without changing the intonations all the time, from being childish to dead-serious in a millisecond?

"I- I used the spoon, sir…" The green eyes shone with rage now, and Hermione could see that the guard was seriously scared of the boy."I used it very quickly, sir. Better than a mixer," the man offered pleadingly, and looked at his boss, the boy's father.

"What are you staring at me? I don't drink milkshakes. Junior, how is it?" The boy took a sip and gave the glass back to the guard.

"Five minutes more, and without cheating!" The guard took the glass as if it were a Holy Grail and bowing, he quickly ran towards one of the jeeps.

She was dreaming and seeing a nightmare.

"Anyway, Jonathan, look into my eyes." The boy's voice changed and now had a lulling tone to it, her dad opened his eyes and stared directly into the green ones, not blinking at all.

A few seconds went by _ **—**_ or maybe minutes, as she lost the track of time _ **—**_ before the boy smirked and got up.

"Now Jonathan will be more responsible," HJ explained to them and took a sip of the now returned milkshake, nodding to the sweating guard, who almost dropped onto the floor from the relief that was visible on his face.

" _Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive, ah, ah…"_ Loud ringing tone interrupted the silence and Hermione saw the boy roll his eyes, before calling the milkshake-guard back.

"You will drive my Bugatti and then destroy it. Got it?" The boy told the guard, who quickly nodded and ran towards the sports car that was half-there.

"And you...If you tell anyone…" The boy trailed off when Hermione's mom started shaking her head quickly, letting him understand that they wouldn't tell a soul.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger from Norfolk Street 17c, London, do you understand everything?" The boy's father had ended the call and was now addressing them.

"Yes, we do, sir. We do." Jane Granger repeated many times, looking into the brown eyes of the man.

Oh, how I hate you. Why don't strange things happen when they are needed?

"Alright, time to go, Junior!" The man murmured while searching for something in the inner pocket of his expensive suit jacket.

The boy looked one more time at Hermione and then at his father. "Can you leave her some money for a normal dentist and a hairdresser? Look at her front teeth, she looks like a beaver who has been electrocuted."

She could only purse her lips and blush from the rage she felt inside.

I HATE YOU!

"I don't hate you, but I definitely wouldn't date you. Maybe in the cinema, where it's dark, but then again, you could do so much damage with those fangs of yours, so thanks but no thanks."

The man stepped closer and demanded she opened her mouth, which she did, holding back the tears of hurt and humiliation.

If she refused, her mother would be shot.

"It looks really bad, you're right, Junior. A new set of teeth would be more preferred in such atrocious situation, to be honest."

She could feel the gun's muzzle click a few times as it touched her teeth, while the man inspected her mouth, using a gun instead of a mirror.

Mom, dad...

Hermione could hear her mom sob, while her dad simply drooled further. She didn't care about herself, when she thought about her poor parents.

The man straightened and pat his son on the shoulders, "We're not charity. Do her a favour, HJ, and we're leaving. Busy, busy day ahead." The older man twirled something in his hand, as he moved closer to the destroyed Peugeot, and threw it into the wreck of a once shiny, blue car, before turning and winking at Jane Granger.

"Buzz, come here and do the right thing for the young lady," the boy called over one of the large guards, who then stepped closer to Hermione, while HJ stepped back.

"I don't hit girls," the boy said in a light tone, and then Hermione saw the guard raise his hand.

The next second she saw the stars as a hard fist collided with her face, and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

She heard her mom's scream, but all she could do was spit the blood and the teeth onto the ground, trying not to lose consciousness.

"There you go, Hermione. Like a beauty-queen! Don't forget to thank me later!" The boy saluted at her with the hand that held the milkshake, and hopped into the Jeep, behind the steering wheel.

Through the pain and the hate, Hermione looked at the grinning boy one last time before the cars took off, roaring, leaving them alone for good.

A loud explosion boomed and through the smoke and fire, Hermione's eyes focused on the now burning Peugeot.

The flames were licking the car wreck and Hermione could feel the emotions of hate, anger, hurt and revenge rise in her heart, just like the flames.

She would kill the boy and his father if she could.

I'll give my life to properly say "thank you", HJ. You have my word.

You wait...

xxx

She was very unsure, but at the same time, she had no other option but this one left.

The world looks rightful and full with justice before you find yourself in trouble, and you are on the other side of the so-called law.

Her father had been charged with DUI, as his hands were _ **—**_ somehow _ **—**_ full with marks from needles, which doctors described as "the obvious signs of the long-term drug-use", and the insurance refused to pay for his father's shot knees _ **—**_ that he had shot himself while he was high _ **—**_ , or Hermione's broken teeth _ **—**_ that had resulted from the crash with her junkie father _ **—**_ , and additionally demanded the rented car to be paid in full price. All their savings were gone in a second, carried away with the smell of lavender fields.

Her mother was heavily-depressed and after an article appeared in the newspaper, her mom had to close their practice, as no one would come to the dentist who had crashed his car while using heroin on a daily basis. What he could do to your teeth if he had done that to his car, was what their previous patients had asked themselves.

Junkie-psycho dentists weren't everybody's cup of tea.

Social services visited them weekly now, but that was not the worse of it.

A week after the encounter with the British psychos, a family of five filled papers where it was said that Hermione's father had crashed his rented Peugeot into their new mini-van and caused health problems for three of the passengers, and moral damages for the rest.

No one cared that the dates were wrong, or that the mini-van looked older than her grandparents, and there was nothing she or her mom could do, when Jonathan Granger had been given two months in prison with additional fine of 600.000 pounds, to pay for the hospital bills for the family "of the other car." Now, over a year later, her always happy father was reduced to a paranoid invalid, who was afraid of light and lived in a room with draped curtains and closed doors, and her mother became hysterical and depressed.

Lies, lies and deceit _ **—**_ this is how she saw the world now, and she had no one to help her, even after a year of struggles.

Her mom did not know what Hermione had planned, and it was to remain like that for their sake.

She knew that there was surveillance on their house, and six times in the last year Hermione had seen unfamiliar cars stand near their house for hours.

But no matter what, she would keep on fighting. And this was her last chance, Hermione thought as she looked at the address, to make sure it was correct.

Baker street 221b.

She needed Sherlock Holmes.

xxx

Her hand already raised, Hermione swallowed, and keeping her head straight, she knocked. There was no answer, when someone called her from behind.

"Miss Hermione Granger?" A beautiful, well-dressed woman asked her, standing near a black, polished car.

"Y-yes, that's my name." After the meeting with the psychos, Hermione did not know what to expect anymore, so when the woman opened the door for her, Hermione stepped back.

Kidnappers.

"One very important person would like to talk to you, Miss Granger. Nothing will happen to you, and today in the evening you'll be brought home. It's just a talk, Miss Granger, but a very important one."

She wanted to run away, but if she did, what would she do then? Turn to police who swallowed the falsificated evidence from their colleagues in France, or complain on social media for no one to believe her? Her Twitter had only one follower, and that was her own dad, and he was damaged beyond imagination now.

Now that she knew about magic, she wanted to learn how to help her family, but magic could not pay bills and restore marred reputations.

Something in her was telling her to accept the offer for a talk with this unknown important person, and since her inner voice was her only ally, Hermione nodded after a minute of consideration.

She had nothing to lose.

xxx

They drove in silence, and Hermione had a chance to examine the woman, who sat opposite of her.

Expensive suit, manicured nails, perfect hair and make-up, and a mobile that didn't leave the manicured hands.

"Who is this important person?" Hermione asked, only to receive a mute smile from the elder woman.

Pursing her lips, Hermione looked out of the window to see an abandoned warehouse that they were quickly approaching.

Great. Just what she needed to add to her problems...Kidnapped and raped.

The car stopped and the woman motioned for Hermione to come out, not taking her gaze away from the mobile phone in her hands.

"You know, it's not polite to ignore people you invite over for a conversation," Hermione snapped at the surprised woman, whose name she didn't even know, and slammed the door shut, making sure the slam had been hard enough.

She was a idiot for agreeing, but now it was too late, and the only way was ahead, towards the illuminated darkness.

Taking step by step, Hermione looked around and saw abandoned warehouse with no humans around.

A perfect end for a perfectionist.

Ahead, in the illuminated area, Hermione saw a silhouette of a man, who was leaning on his closed umbrella.

"You have no reason to be afraid of me, Miss Granger." His voice was emotionless, and as she stepped closer, Hermione saw the man fully.

"I used to think so about many people, sir, but now my opinion has changed," Hermione said in a confident voice, demanding it not to shake from the nerves, and saw a hint of a small smile on the man's face. He was dressed in an expensive suit, and the memory of a madman appeared in her mind before Hermione managed to push it aside.

"After you meet Jim Moriarty, you have to change your priorities to stay sane, Miss Granger. I cannot really blame you for losing your faith in humanity."

Who?

The man took out something from his pocket and stretched his hand out for her to take the white envelope.

From the picture that was in the envelope a man in a straight-jacket was laughing at the camera, and Hermione almost dropped the photo as she immediately recognized him.

The British psycho-father!

Her disbelieving eyes were looking into the calculating ones of the man, whose name she didn't know, and then he took out one more envelope.

"You will find that right and wrong are defined not by our beliefs, Miss Granger, but by our connections. If you have the right connections, you can do many things wrong, but for others they will be seen as right. You can wreak havoc without any fear if you know where to turn to for support. You have no connections, and that is the reason why your father was given the full blame."

Hermione listened to the man, her heart beating wildly, before opening the new envelope, already knowing whose photo would be inside.

HJ.

"This boy has more connections than you can imagine, and that is why he's allowed to do what he wants, disregarding feelings of others and endangering the lives of the whole world."

HJ.

The memory of the laughing green eyes wouldn't leave her even in her dreams, and now the eyes were looking at her from the picture without a cap with Minions on, but the boy was standing half-turned, so she could see only one side of the face. It was enough.

HJ.

"And there is nothing you can do because you're no one, and you have no powerful allies, Miss Granger, unlike that boy." The man was now smiling at her. "But you can change that here and now."

The man stepped forward and offered his hand for a shake.

"I am Mycroft Holmes."

Sherlock Holmes's brother?

"My younger brother _ **—**_ Sherlock, is not the one to help you in this situation, Miss Granger. I am."

How did he know everything? Then again, did it matter?

"I want him to pay for everything he has done," Hermione said honestly, looking Mr. Holmes in the eyes and pointing at the picture of the boy with green eyes and messy black hair.

"So do I."

She wanted to politely decline the shake of the hand, but her inner voice was pushing her towards the man, so she accepted his handshake.

"Can you really help me, Mr. Holmes?" Hermione was waiting with bated breath for the answer, while holding a cold, confidant hand in a shake, and smiled for the first time in a year, when she heard one.

"In more ways than you can imagine it now, child. Serve your country, and it will open all the doors for you. You won't be no one anymore, and then you can take care of our shared problem." Mycroft Holmes waited for her nod, and then smiled back.

There was only one issue, and Hermione didn't know what to do about it.

"Sir, there is something that you should know," Hermione trailed off, not knowing how to tell the man that she was a witch and was going to Hogwarts in less than a month. She wasn't supposed to tell muggles anything about the wizarding world...

"Be careful around Albus Dumbledore, Miss Granger." Her shock was visible on her face, as Hermione knew that only the Prime-Minister of Britain was aware of the magical world, or so the books said.

Just what position did her new ally have?

Who the hell was he?

"You will be our eyes and ears at Hogwarts, and in return, all your troubles will be resolved, and you can always turn to us with anything."

Our? Us?

"I work for the British government, and you will be working for the government as well. This is for real, for the whole nation, Miss Granger."

She had to spy on Albus Dumbledore?

She wasn't James Bond. And she was eleven.

"I am not a spy, sir."

The man looked very calm, and didn't show many emotions, so unlike Moriarty, who had allowed the boy to destroy her family, just because he could, however Hermione knew danger when she saw it. Mycroft Holmes was as dangerous as his adversary.

"I am fully aware of that, child. When you are in my position, you understand that patriotism has no age limit. You'll change your mind on the 1st of September, take my word."

A minute later, Hermione's brown eyes were filled with resolve and the need for revenge.

"He's magical, isn't he?" She asked with a heavy frown, pointing at the picture of HJ.

"He is."

She'd go to the same school as the little monster, who had ruined her parents' lives. How would she behave? How could she be in the same room as him if she knew what kind of nutcase the boy was? If she remembered what he had done...

"What is his full name?"

Mycroft Holmes seemed to think the answer over, before smirking at Hermione's clenched jaws with the new teeth.

"Patience is a virtue, Miss Granger. All good spies know that." So he wouldn't share the name, wanting to see how she would behave when she would meet the boy at school.

"How do I know I can trust you, sir?"

"I am the good guy, Miss Granger, like you are, and we have the same goal. Get rid of the world's dangerous maniacs, no matter the price. Don't you agree that what happened to your family must not repeat itself with others?"

Minutes ticked by, and with them the aroma of lavender and burning metal, shot flesh and screams echoed in her mind, followed by the shining, green eyes and the maniacal laughter, and the roar of the powerful engine.

"I agree, sir."

Until we meet again, HJ.

xxx

 _a/n Well, that was fun, right? :) As you may have noticed, there is no authorial pov, and there are characters' povs only. So if I want to influence your perception of the character, I have to select the situation carefully. Who doesn't agree with Hermione now, even if you dislike her as a character, and like Dark!Harry? ;) I am not a fan of the Weasleys and they will probably suffer, but I won't bash any character, nor reduce characters to being simply stupid. If I give a character a pov, then the character shall be opened in the short, or long run. I wanted to keep the chapters under 3.000 words, but sometimes they're much bigger, like now._

 _Thank you for reading and extra thank you to those who review._


	8. This is serious

_Beta: Julie. fjad_

Chapter Eight

 **This is serious**

—

" _Find me, find me, find me…" A vision of a ring with a round purple stone appeared, before being replaced by a vision of a cloak. "Unite us…"_ The whisperings were getting louder and then Harry woke up.

It was cold, and there was not enough air to breathe, and that is why the green eyes opened and looked around in the darkness. Harry saw nothing so he moved his hand towards the nightlight when it hit a wall.

The hell?

Quickly moving his hands around him, Harry groaned and banged his head on the door of the wardrobe.

He had been sleepwalking again, and today he found himself in the wardrobe, locked from the inside.

His shoulders were itching like mad, and he scratched his back, moaning from pleasure when his nails got to the most burning point.

The wardrobe doors suddenly swung open, and with a yelp, Harry fell onto the floor, hitting his nose so hard he was afraid he had broken it.

"Ahhh, shiiiit."

"What in Merlin's name are you doing in the wardrobe, Potter?" The sneering voice and goth clothing could belong only to one man, and Harry cursed his luck. Too bad Voldemort was busy doing who knows what. Just imagining how the sheep would say this sentence with 'Voldemort' replaced by 'You-know-who', annoyed him to no end.

When he felt pain, he always tried to lighten up his mood, and right now, his nose was killing him.

"I was sleepwalking, and you just rudely woke me up." Harry gathered himself from the floor, noticing for the first time that he had only underwear on _ **—**_ with a one-eye Minion _ **—**_ , and a white curtain that somehow resembled a cloak, was draped around his shoulders.

Every night after his sleepwalking, he would always find himself with something over his shoulders and an itching hand, while the other hand now always held the wand while he slept. Or walked in sleep. He had no idea how he always ended up with the wand in his hand, but every morning without an exception, ever since receiving that interesting piece of wood, it was there.

Snape silently waved his dark wand, impressing Harry by healing his nose.

"Potter, is there anything you can do like a normal person?" While he did respect SS for his biting remarks that were funny even if Harry wasn't supposed to laugh, he still disliked the man who was now looking at his sprawled form with critical eyes and a sneer.

He felt like an idiot. It wasn't his fault he was a lunatic.

"Thanks. Well, I think we poop the same way. Unless, of course, you use an enema..." Harry was not very gently howled to his feet, and now he was looking the man in the eyes.

Scary guy...

"Mark my words, Potter, when the school term starts, I'll have you cleaning the whole castle with a toothbrush," Severus Snape sneered at the boy again, and turned around, intending to leave Harry's room.

"I'll buy a few boxes of electrical ones, then. Do you prefer the soft, medium, or the hard one?" Harry barely held back a laugh as Snape's eyes became almost like two black holes and they wanted to suck the life out of his super-hero _ **—**_ with a cape and underwear _ **—**_ clad body.

"Just like your swine father, your arrogance knows no bounds." Well, he didn't know his dad; maybe he really was a swine, so Harry shrugged his shoulders and simply smiled. Jim said it pissed people off.

"The Headmaster wished to see you. Now." So much poison in so few words...

"Can I put some clothes on first, or you want me to go like this?"

He knew his smile was really pissing off Severus Snape, and even though the consequences could be very unpleasant for him, it was totally worth it.

"I promise I'll be very selective and informed when choosing for you a detention you'll be, most definately, serving every day for the rest of the year, Potter." Snape's smile was pretty horrible by itself, even without the two black holes for the eyes. "You can go in your underwear, if you so wish, Mister Potter. Be my guest." Snape showed him to the door and Harry paused for a second. What to do, what to do…

Nah, he'd dress.

xxx

There were many things he had expected from Headmaster Dumbledore, but this was definitely not one of them.

Blue eyes were twinkling, and Harry was at a loss of what to do. From one point of view, it was better than great, but from the other it smelled of such manipulations and schemes that Harry's stomach made a somersault as he imagined that this was only the beginning.

"So, you're saying, I have a legal guardian who has been imprisoned all this time while being innocent?" Harry was really uncomfortable with the Headmaster's grandpa-like gaze _ **—**_ all sad, happy and caring _ **—**_ and turned away to look at the paintings.

"We will restore justice and save Sirius Black, my boy. Your godfather."

"He's a pureblood, isn't he, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

So, Albus Dumbledore was taking out an ace in the very beginning of their game, and it freaked out Harry.

Sure, he'd have a stable home with a devoted godfather, who knew nothing about the Muggle world and always lived in the magical part… "How convenient for you, Headmaster…"

The silence between them stretched on, and Harry looked over the portraits, ignoring those blue eyes of the old Headmaster, who wasn't amused anymore.

"Harry, I am asking you to understand me as well. I cannot let you back into the muggle world because of your connections." Dumbledore paused at the word 'connections' and continued, looking at him grimly. "Your association to the muggle criminal is what keeps you locked in Hogwarts, not me."

"I am innocent."

It seemed that Dumbledore was close to losing his nerve, and Harry inwardly smiled.

Their tenth "talk" in the last month, and the old man was getting fed up with Harry's attitude.

"I have faith in you, Harry, and that is the only reason why I protect you from Mycroft Holmes. Please don't try to lie to me. I can help you to find your way, your footing, and all you have to do is just stay in the wizarding world, with your godfather Sirius Black." Dumbledore seemed honest, like an old, nice grandpa, and Harry almost believed him. Too bad for the old man, he knew better. He could sense lies.

"Come with me, Harry." Albus Dumbledore got up from his chair and took out a small, silver goblet into his hand which he stretched towards Harry.

"It's a portkey. You have nothing to worry about. We'll go for a small, educational excursion."

Well, a month in Hogwarts was really boring, so Harry shrugged his shoulders and touched the cup.

After feeling his insides hit his teeth _ **—**_ it was the liver, he was sure _ **—**_ Harry fell onto his arse, completely disoriented.

They landed on a rock in the middle of nowhere, water surrounding them below and grey fog around them. It was so cold.

Before him, Harry could see another island, which had a huge tower-like form and black cloth flew everywhere. Ghosts?

"I know it may seem cruel to you, but I want you to see what happens to wizards and witches who make wrong choices, who lost themselves. I want you to see what could be your future, if you don't forget about your past life as a criminal associate, and start from a new leaf. This is Azkaban, Harry."

So this was the famous wizarding prison?

"So here Sirius Black had spent ten years, innocent, and you didn't do a shit about it."

"Please, Harry, watch your language."

Dumbledore may think himself to be very smart, but Harry could see the unwillingness of the Headmaster to admit to the fact that Harry had been right. If there had been no Moriarty, Sirius Black would be rotting in jail until the end of his lonely days.

Well, it didn't look _that_ bad, but it was very windy and cold here, and since he liked warmer places, Harry turned to the old Professor. "What are we waiting for?"

Something in Dumbledore's eyes changed, and he looked…wary?

"How do you feel, Harry?"

It was a bad question for someone who had spent a lot of time with shrinks.

"What do you want me to say? That it's spooky and it's windy here? It is. Am I afraid? I am not." Why was the old man watching him so closely?

"I'll apparate us inside." A pull at the navel, and he was standing in a very, very nasty place.

If he had to be honest, he'd say he had never seen such unsanitary conditions in any place before. Considering he'd been to many, many places, it said a lot.

And the smell...He had no words to describe the stench that was soaked deep into the walls.

He'd need to replace his nose because the stench would be deep in his nostrils for the rest of his life.

Where was the administration? Where were the Human Rights organizations when you really needed them? Whoever complained about fast food restaurants, had never seen this place.

He'd pay to see one of those funny hosts on TV help this business. Wouldn't that be funny to watch…

He looked at the narrow, filthy corridors, and the dingy ceilings, and then turned his gaze towards the closer wall.

No wonder Azkaban was so feared, Harry thought as he looked at the wall that looked like it had never been cleaned and was now a planet for fifty-six variations of fungi and two million types of bacteria.

He was afraid to see the cells. He'd burn his clothes when he returned to Hogwarts, and take a scalding hot bath with antiseptic.

"I'll try to behave."

Harry turned to look at Dumbledore who was looking at him in true concern and wonder.

"What?"

Dumbledore was still staring at him, and Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore," Harry heard from the end of the corridor and watched as a short, thin man with very little brown hair was approaching them, holding his wand in his hand, illuminating the way. "And…?" The man, who had to be in his sixties, came closer and stopped upon seeing a child.

Harry barely held back the laugh at the thoughts in the guard's head, the most innocent calling Albus Dumbledore a madman for bringing a child to Azkaban.

Harry's good mood was visible as the man frowned and looked at Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Mister Tenatus. The prisoner's godson wishes to see him, and for educational purposes, I have decided to take young Mister Potter with me." His name sounded clearly, and Mister Tenatus looked at Harry with wide eyes.

"A pleasure, Mister Potter. Welcome to Azkaban." He was sincere and he didn't mean it that way, and still Mister Tenatus blushed from embarrassment for what he had said. It was the standard greeting for prisoners, and he had said it to the boy-who-lived.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mister Tenatus. Sir, how could I contact your supervisor or a manager?" Harry took out a small notebook from a pocket of his leather jacket and a beautiful pen with an H on the end.

"My supervisor?" Mister Tenatus looked panicked and Harry inwardly raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, who can I contact about the cleaning of this place? Which services do you work with?" Harry asked, prepared to write down in his notebook, not noticing the weird glances from Dumbledore and the guard.

"Mister Potter, I am afraid Azkaban does not have any hiring services, and we don't have any cleaners." Mr. Tenatus sounded really uncomfortable and wary, and kept glancing at Dumbledore, whose eyes were glued to Harry.

Harry shook his head at the audacity and looked at Dumbledore. "Seriously? I am so going to sue you…" Harry had to stop his tirade when the guard's pendant glowed red and both he and Dumbledore paled.

Turning around, Harry saw the black cloth move towards them, and shrugging his shoulders, he turned back to the now really sad wizards. It was all taking so much time!

He wanted to quickly get Sirius Black out, and leave this dirty, contaminated hash. Oh, and see the dementors. There were supposed to be some scary guards here, and Harry had a suspicion they were hidden somewhere in the dungeons.

 _"Expecto Patronum!"_ The tip of Dumbledore's new wand glowed light blue, and a silver phoenix appeared between them and the black blankets, which looked dirty and ragged.

"We would appreciate if we could proceed to Sirius Black's cell, Mr. Tenatus." Dumbledore looked serious and grave as he directed his silver phoenix towards the black cloth, and took out a scroll from his robes before giving it to the guard.

Release documents…Headmaster Dumbledore was really quick and smooth in his ever going machinations and Harry mentally applauded the old man.

So, if he were a normal eleven year old, he would have been over the moon at having an adult who actually cared about him. It was always interesting to learn new things.

James Moriarty…James respected him for whatever mystical reason _ **—**_ that he was grateful for _ **—**_ and was fond of him too, but Jim did not really care about him. He didn't love him.

No one did.

His parents really loved him, that was for sure, and maybe his Godfather. That thought made Harry shake his head and push the ground a bit with his shoe, drawing a flower. So that meant that the only three people who truly loved him were retards. And two were already dead.

They loved him, and he was grateful, but that didn't stop Harry from being logically honest. Voldemort had told him about the night he had come to kill Harry Potter, and Harry could only holler in silent rage.

A wand was your gun, just like explained in the Full Metal Jacket…You are nothing without your wand, and therefore, you have to have your wand with you no matter the time and place.

That was, when you know how to fight someone off…

James Potter, a pureblood wizard, went to 'hold off' the Dark fucking Lord without his wand. How could his father have been so damn stupid? Who runs off with a fork against a panzer, without taking at least the bazooka from the nearby couch? How did he plan holding off Voldemort?

Kung Fu?

It was hilarious to imagine, but very damaging for his future without anyone to love him.

And his mother…the charming, smart Lily Potter, a muggle-born witch, where the hell had been her wand when she ran upstairs? Why was there no gun in the house, considering his mom was supposed to know about muggle weapons? Why were there no wards on the staircase, or on his room, to additionally hold off a possible enemy?

Why did everyone give up on logic when Voldemort came inside their house?

They had no chance from the very beginning, and Voldemort was not to blame for their stupidity.

More and more Harry saw the wizarding world, and more and more he missed the muggle one.

Backward hypocrites, all of them.

He wasn't even going to start mulling over Sirius Black, who had never been the Dark Lord's spy.

Thankfully they were silent as they climbed the stairs _ **—**_ even though they were narrow, Harry didn't touch the walls or the railing _ **—**_ and he could think his thoughts without spacing off. Dumbledore was staring at him enough as it was.

"Sirius Black," Mr. Tenatus greeted something in what looked to be a dog cage.

Fucking hell...

"JAMES! I CAN SEE YOU, JAMES! AHAHAHA!" Had it not been for the human words, he'd say it was a dog, but it looked like a man on a closer inspection. The dog-man was trying to reach Harry with his hideous hand, while barking through the bars between them.

This was his godfather?

Harry closed his eyes and almost whined "oh, why", hoping Dumbledore would stop pushing his limits.

"Sirius, this is Harry, not James, and he is real. We're here to free you, my boy. It's over." Dumbledore's voice was all honey and even smelled of hot chocolate, making Harry want to barf here and now.

"What?" Sirius' voice was hoarse and disbelieving.

"You're free, Sirius. There will be one more hearing in Wizegamot, but technically, you're free. You'll be leaving with us."

"I'M SO SORRY, JAMES! Jaaaaames!"

Oh, dear…His godfather was now screaming, trying to push away the flying cloth that appeared again in the corridor, behind the barrier with the phoenix.

What the hell was it?

"What is that black stub of cloth doing in the air? Is It for decoration purposes here?" Harry turned to Dumbledore for the answer, but looked at Sirius instead, when his godfather howled.

"Demeeeeeeentors, Harryyyy."

Haha.

Right, Sirius. Seriously though...

Before Dumbledore could react, Harry stepped closer to the small group of the flying blankets, and reached towards one black blanket with torn, ragged edges.

Dirty.

"HARRY!"

His hand became iron hot when it touched the black blanket where its possible hood was. An inhuman sound came from the creature, but Harry could swear it resembled a human scream. The creature quickly flew away from him, peeking at him from behind his brothers, hiding in obvious distress, while all Harry could do was stare at the unblemished skin on the still-burning hand.

The next second he was yanked harshly close to Dumbledore, who looked both worried and scared.

"What?"

"I am crazyyyyyyy." Sirius Black was singing, sitting on all fours and staring at Harry and then back at the Dementors. And then at Harry. And then at the Dementors.

If he didn't stop watching Sirius' eyes, he'd go crazy himself, Harry thought as he dared to glance in Dumbledore's face, who was still silent, looking at him with very pensive blue eyes that did not twinkle.

He actually had thought it had been a joke, but judging by the white-faced Mr. Tenatus, and the still singing Sirius, then it hadn't probably been a joke.

He knew he had again done something abnormal, but after the Christmas of three years ago, nothing really surprised him anymore. After that fateful day when Jim Moriarty had lost his nerve and changed everything not only for Harry, but for himself as well, it wouldn't shock him now to know that you couldn't touch the black cloth _ **—**_ a Dementor _ **—**_ and get away with it like he had done.

Harry tuned out the voice of Mr. Tenatus, and thought about James. Jim.

He knew that deep down, in the essence of his soul, James was now interested in life again, and even though Moriarty's game with both Holmeses could end with James dead, Harry knew his friend would do his best to hold on and stay alive.

James promised to deal with both Holmeses so that he could get rid of his obsession, and then he was all his. Or so James Moriarty had said, and he always kept his word. He just didn't give it very often.

He had to focus on what was happening now, and not space off, like he had done on many, many occasions, sometimes wandering in his own thoughts, sometimes listening to the voices around him.

He couldn't always control his gift, and now he heard the hysterical _"Cannot be! It is not possible! Dear Merlin!"_ from Mr. Tenatus' mind. He tried not to listen to some random muttering that was going on in Sirius' head, and he didn't dare to try with the Headmaster. He was a Master Legilimens and Harry didn't want to get caught red-handed. Calming down, Harry looked Albus Dumbledore in the eyes.

"I don't know what happened. I thought it was a joke." Harry was looking Dumbledore into the eyes, letting him understand he was telling the truth.

"A joke? How can it be a joke, Harry? Don't you feel their terrifying aura?" Dumbledore had never looked as serious as he did now, after Harry simply shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. "Should I?" Harry asked the Professor in all seriousness, letting the Headmaster understand he wasn't joking anymore, and truly wanted to know the answer.

"You should." Dumbledore looked at Harry and then at the guard, who had opened the cell and was now holding the body of what was left of Sirius Black. "We'll discuss this later, Harry. Sirius, Harry, put your hands onto the cup in my hand. It will portkey us to St. Mungo's, where Sirius will have to stay at for a few days, to check his health." Dumbledore explained patiently, holding on to the portkey cup with his left hand. Great, now he'd taste his kidneys. Harry only hoped his bowels wouldn't get stuck between his teeth. Sirius had been trying to hug him, and Harry kept on slowly walking away, circling around Dumbledore. No way he was touching such dirt, Harry thought and quickly placed his hand on the cup, only to feel Sirius' dirty, contaminated hand land on his.

Harry's scream of disgust was lost when the kidneys landed in his throat, and he was now sitting on the white floor of the insane asylum.

He needed antiseptic. Now.

xxx

Slowly climbing the stairs that led to the Headmaster's office, Severus tried to calm his rage and Occlude his mind.

Black was now in St. Mungo's, and while Severus had always hated the crazy mutt, it still shocked him to find out about Black's innocence. Black was a pig, but he was a better choice than Moriarty, and Severus could only hope that Black would have enough brain cells left to not indulge Potter's maniac nature, and behave like an adult. From the report of St. Mungo's, Black was relatively sane, and Snape did not understand how.

The biggest hit was that Dumbledore had known all this time, and he would have done nothing to save Black if Potter hadn't turned out to be such a complicated child.

Bastard.

He was standing near the door when he heard Albus' voice. "Come in, Severus."

Taking a deep breath, Severus opened the door, and frowned when he saw Albus.

"Are you alright, Albus?"

The old man had never looked so old, and so uncertain, and Severus swallowed the nervous wad in his throat.

"Severus, I am afraid I am at a loss as to what to do. I am not sure anymore that I understand what is happening to Harry." Albus' words were quiet and sincere in their concern, while the blue eyes were sad and wary.

What had Potter done now?

"Good morning then, Albus, and welcome to reality. If all it takes to wake you up from your dreams is Azkaban, I hope you'll visit it often enough to not lose the rest of your mind." Severus sneered as the Headmaster smiled a tiny smile, and continued. "Potter is something else, but he's human, so we'll figure it out."

The silence was light, and Severus was used to pauses in their conversations, but something about Dumbledore's gaze was bothering him now.

It was a mad question to ask, but when it came to Potter, everything was possible. He'd humour the old man.

"Potter is human, right?"

The silence that came after his question made the hairs on his neck rise, and all the hair on his head would be standing like a guard before the Buckingham palace, had it not been for the potions greasy vapours.

"Albus?"

Silence.

Severus could feel his heart rate accelerate, and it was running a marathon when the old Headmaster slowly shook his head.

"I am afraid I am not sure anymore, Severus." Black eyes met blue, and they stared at each other for a minute.

"Show me what Potter has done now. I need to know." Severus waited for the nod and then Albus was withdrawing the memory of their Azkaban visit.

"And Severus…" Dumbledore trailed off after he had placed the memory into the Pensive.

"Yes?"

"Did you know that Dementors could scream?" Severus knew his look said it all, as Dumbledore shook his head at the silent insults sent his way from the black eyes and the sneer.

Dementors did not scream, people did when they were nearby. Too much Azkaban for the old man.

Slowly, Severus touched the memory and with held breath, he watched Potter interact with Dementors.

Ten minutes later, both men were still sitting quietly, each in their own thoughts.

"Tomorrow is the first of September, Severus. We need to be careful with Harry and watch his interactions with other students." Albus was now back to his old self, calm and collected, while Severus could only listen to the echo of the Dementor's scream and rewatch in his mind Potter's absolute immunity towards the most horrible creatures in the world. He wouldn't sleep today, he knew that for sure.

And tomorrow, a new school year would start, and Severus Snape had a feeling it wouldn't be like any other year before.

What in Morgana's name are you, Potter?

xxx

He needed his milkshake, to calm his nerves and get some sugar into his blood, but he highly doubted this place had a good cafeteria.

Shuffling, Harry slowly moved down the corridor of St. Mungo's, looking for a snack machine.

Sirius was now clean and after a long hug from the man, Harry could finally escape the room and leave his godfather with the doctors. He hated everyone in a white coat. Magical or muggle, it did not matter, he did not like any doctors.

"Just a little bit more, Frank, and we'll go to the best journey of your life. Well, life is a wrong word here, but you get my point. And you, Alice, we'll be leaving with you today. Our ship is waiting. The view from the deck is simply gorgeous, you'll love it, darling."

Harry heard a soft, melodic voice, and peeked into the room, where two people were lying on the beds, and a pretty woman was packing one small bag, while flittering around the room.

Yeah, crazy.

"Ok, my dear Alice, now get up and let's go. On the count of three." Harry now saw the woman on the bed, with opened, vacant eyes and raising his eyebrows, he looked at the man, who didn't look any better. He had seen such patients in one of the nuthouses he had been to, and he would bet his Mars bar that those two wouldn't be going to any ferry rides.

Vegetables didn't do travelling.

"You may want to catch your ship on your own, lady. Those two don't look very excited about your suggestion." Harry smiled at the pretty woman, who turned so quickly that Harry had to blink.

"Are you talking to me?" Her voice was disbelieving and a tiny bit hysterical, making Harry round his eyes and shake his head at the weirdo.

"Unlike you, I don't have a habit of holding a conversation with two vegetables," Harry replied easily, noticing woman's shocked eyes.

"Who are you?" She asked, slowly moving her feet _ **—**_ one by one _ **—**_ towards Harry, still staring at him with large, surprised eyes.

"I am Draco Malfoy." Harry lied without blinking, and saw the woman smile. "No, you're not."

"I am."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"You are…" The woman looked at Harry and closed her grey eyes, moving her palm up and towards Harry, who had taken his wand out.

"I am…" Harry waited for the woman to produce an answer, when the woman opened her eyes and after a quick glance at the wand, she titled her head with black curls a bit and smiled at him.

"You are Harry Potter."

His scar was covered by a baseball cap, so she couldn't see his scar, so how did she know he was Harry Potter and not some Rugustus Pompikus?

Hmm...interesting.

"And you are?" Harry asked, pointing at the woman with his wand, which was the object of the woman's interest again.

"Me?"

"Well, we both know who I am, so yeah...you." Was she slow on purpose?

"I am…" The woman suddenly stopped and smiled at him again. "You tell me, Harry Potter. Who am I?" The mischievous twinkle in the woman's grey eyes did not annoy him, for some abnormal reason, as twinkling eyes always, always, pissed him off, and Harry decided to humour the lady, who was looking at him with really interested eyes.

Brenda? Buffy? Bonny? Somehow, he knew it had to start with a B.

Harry smirked and closed his eyes, copying the woman, and raised his palm. It was hilarious and it was the best thing that had happened today.

He'd name her…

 _Berthrada._..The name just popped into his mind, and Harry opened his eyes.

"I'll call you…" Harry was looking at the amused woman when he said the name he had found for her. "Berthrada."

The woman froze, and all the humour left her eyes, smile disappearing, body tense.

"Oh, Harry, there you are. I have been looking for you." Harry turned at the sound of the Sirius' doctor's voice, and when he turned back to look at the woman, she was no longer there.

"Eeee…" Didn't Dumbledore say there were Anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards in this particular wing? Where the hell did Berthrada go? He didn't even know her real name…

Bummer.

xxx

Harry was sitting in his bathtub, soaking in three liters of antiseptic solution that was mixed with almost-boiling water, enjoying the cleanliness of his body, when he heard a soft cough to his left.

He slipped on his ass and submerged under the water, before collecting himself and coming up.

Shit, his eyes burned like mad!

Trying to see who the hell was in his room, in Hogwarts, through the tears in his antiseptic-burned eyes, Harry almost screamed as he saw Berthrada, who was sitting quietly on a chair in a corner of the bathroom.

"You know, lady, I truly like beautiful women, but I am eleven and you're what, thirty? Don't stalk children, missy." Harry wiped his face with a towel, and managed to open his eyes fully.

The woman looked pensive and she was on the other side of the spectrum of stalkers, sitting almost in submissive position, head tilted a bit.

"I didn't mean to scare you, Harry Potter. Just say my name again, and add that I can go, and I'll leave immediately." Berthrada explained in a calm and suspiciously respectful voice, trying not to look at Harry's foam-clad torso.

"Is that a joke? Come on, lady, stop fooling around and get out." Harry opened the hot tap as his bum wasn't burning from the scalding water anymore, and the bacterias were still undefeated, so he didn't really care about this weird woman at the moment.

"Please, Harry, say my name and allow me to leave. I have a lot of work to do, but I cannot leave if you're holding me." Did she just whine?

"I am not holding you. Go!" Bacterias would be defeated in a bloody battle, Harry thought as he opened one more bottle with antiseptic. He just hoped he wouldn't burn his testicles.

"I cannot! Say my name and tell me to go!"

"Are you deaf, or something?" Harry asked the woman, who now had a tiny smile on her red lips. She looked very nice, with short, black hair and grey eyes, petite and funny, but he was eleven, so she'd have to wait a few years. "Are you Death?" He asked suddenly, while pouring the whole bottle into the tub.

Oh, yesssss...

Berthrada bit her lip and shook her head, twinkling, grey eyes were now filled with amusement and hilarity.

What was so funny?

"I am not Death, Harry..." Berthrada stopped for a second and clicked her tongue. "I am not that powerful, I am afraid."

This weirdo better leave him now, before he lost his nerve after a long, tiring day. He'd had enough for today. If she wasn't Death, he wasn't interested.

"Please, let me leave."

Oh, man...Weird, weird people around him, everywhere.

Harry took a breath and concentrated on his priorities, just like James had taught him. Back to the priorities, though…First destroy the bacterias on his body, and then, only then, deal with other psychos.

"Fine, Berthrada. Get the hell out!" Harry barked the last part, only to stop after the word "out" as Berthrada was already gone.

Harry shook his head at the madness of the wizarding world, and leaned back into the tub.

Aaaahhhh…

Tomorrow the school year would start, and it meant a lot of noisy children around him. Maybe he already knew some of them?

With a sigh, Harry closed his eyes and relaxed.

What a weird day it had been...

xxx

 _a/n Thanks for reading and please review. I'd really appreciate that. And mega thanks to the awesome people who have reviewed the last chapter :)_


	9. The beginning

_Beta: Julie. fjad_

Chapter Nine

 **The beginning**

—

It was five minutes after the train started its way to Hogwarts, when the doors of his compartment opened and a girl with unruly brown hair stood there, clad in a muggle sweater and jeans.

Mudblood.

"What do you want?" Draco asked, looking at her with critical eyes. She looked closely at Theodore Nott, before answering him in an arrogant tone he did not appreciate.

"What I want is none of your business. This is not how a boy should speak to a girl." The girl looked at him with pursed lips. "And what is your name?"

What was his name? Everyone knew him just by looking at him. He had blond hair which was a traditional Malfoy hair colour, his grey eyes were just like his dad's, who was Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, and he was dressed in the best wizarding clothing, cloak included.

He was a Malfoy.

"I am Draco Malfoy. And you are?" He could sneer all he wanted, she was a Mudblood, Draco thought as he heard her answer.

"I am Hermione Granger."

"Filthy Mudblood." Pansy had never been tactical, but then again, who cared?

"What did you say?"

"She said you were a Mudblood. Are you one?" Draco crossed the hands on his chest as he leaned back, smirking.

The girl seemed to mull something over, her eyes pensive, jaws clenched, and then she took a step into the compartment, moving closer to where Pansy sat.

"Draco, she doesn't even know what a Mudblood is. It means, Granger, than your parents are filthy Muggles and _—_ " Pansy didn't finish the sentence as Granger's fist collided with Pansy's nose, freeing so much blood that Pansy's white clothing was now red. "Aaaaaa!"

Draco was on his feet, wand out, just like the rest of their group, glaring at the Mudblood. Draco thought he had seen Theodore rub his knuckles, and he himself wouldn't mind smashing the Mudblood's face.

"What is going on here?!" One of the Weasleys was standing in the doors, glaring at them and at Pansy's broken nose.

You wait, Mudblood.

Xxx

"This is not how we have agreed to proceed, Mister Holmes." When Albus wanted something, his grandfatherly voice gained notes of steel, and now Severus heard a clang of metal.

Dumbledore wasn't amused. It was almost sorting time, and they were still in Muggle London.

"You wizards have no idea what is happening in the muggle world, do you? At all." Severus turned to look at the younger Holmes, who looked like he hadn't slept in weeks.

"Is there any way a wizard can block death?" The younger Holmes asked Severus, completely serious, and Severus opened his mouth to say "No" when he remembered about the Dark Lord.

"I beg your pardon?" It was Albus who had asked the question, his blue eyes alert.

"Moriarty has been in a coma for a month, and his heart has stopped fifty-seven times already, he is breathing with the help of a machine, and he is still alive. How?" Mycroft Holmes was quiet, and it was Sherlock who was talking to them, while his elder brother was reading something on his phone.

"I am afraid you'll have to explain a bit more, Mister Holmes."

"He flatlines and then when we don't do anything, the heart rate appears again and again and again. We switched off the machines, and Moriarty is still breathing, even when he cannot be." Sherlock Holmes seemed neurotic at the moment, gesturing and talking fast. "We even placed him in the morgue, only to find him breathing on his own the next morning. For God's sake, even after autopsy he is alive. He just won't die."

Sherlock looked at Mycroft, who nodded, and then at Severus and Albus.

"Autopsy?" Albus asked, glancing at Severus, who had decided to sit onto a chair because he was sure his legs would give up soon.

Severus looked at what Mycroft was holding in his hands now, and swallowed hard. Moriarty's heart was in a simple, glass jar, and it was beating.

xxx

Harry could only stare. Speechless, shocked, enraged…There were many words to describe what he felt when he looked at James' figure, all in tubes and beeping monitors, locked in a room with three walls and one mirror behind which the gang of bastards stood.

James…

What enraged him, though, were the people in James' room, near his bed. Was this the circus or was this a room of a man who needed extended care?

Harry's mouth was open as he silently looked over the crowd that consisted of at least twenty people, who turned to look at him as he entered, before returning their attention to the body on the bed.

Five grown up men were pulling at James from all sides, cursing and arguing, while the rest waited for their turn to try their hand at disturbing his friend.

"On the count of three!"

"One, two, three!"

"I told you it doesn't work. We have tried the standard way, and we have read the codex again, to see if we may need any special ritual, and he is still here. After one month and two-hundred fifteen attempts later."

"On the count of five!"

"One, two, three, four, five, pull!" All the men started pulling at James' hands and feet, only to drop onto the floor in defeat.

"On the count of seven!"

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, PULL!"

"DAMMIT!" Harry watched as one of the men hit his fists onto a wall, almost crying from rage.

"Hey, is that boy looking at us? He looks directly into my eyes. I think he sees us." Well, duh…

"You need to spend less time listening to gossip, and concentrate on your work. Humans don't see us." And you, big guy, should get your head checked while being in a hospital anyway.

Who the hell were those people?

What the hell did Mycroft Holmes think he was doing?

"Our shift supervisor refuses to even check on this guy. She said we have to figure it out ourselves."

"I am telling you, the boy is looking at me." The man with short blond hair voiced his thoughts again, to be ignored, as one more person entered the room. It was an elderly woman with a thick book in her hands.

"How about a rope? If we use the enchanted rope and put it around his neck…The papers say he goes directly to hell anyway, onto the hottest pan, so maybe we should separate the head and then take the rest of the body?" Did the grandma just offer to cut off James's head?

Harry couldn't watch this theatre any longer, so he cleared his throat, making all the people turn to look at him.

"You touch him again, and I'll use your enchanted rope to cut your heads off."

Silence.

Haha, easily scared bullies…

"I told you he can see us!" The blond man looked hysterical, while the rest were just standing in stunned silence.

"Can you see us?" The grandma asked in a quiet voice, looking at him pensively.

"Are you on drugs, people? What the hell is Holmes doing with James? What the hell do you think you're doing near my friend? Who the fuck are you?" Harry screamed at the crowd, not thinking about Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and two Holmeses behind the mirror-glass.

"He can see us."

"Well, of course I can see you! I can also hear you, you retards. I'll ask again and you better answer me. What are you doing with my friend?"

"We need to take him with us." The grandma with the book said, and Harry shook his head.

No one was touching his friend.

"No."

The word left Harry's lips, and out of nowhere, an anchor appeared and after twisting the metal chain around James's body, the anchor secured itself on the floor.

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked at the people in the room, who were now very silent.

"We have orders to take James Moriarty with us." The grandma was the bravest.

"I said NO!" One more anchor appeared, and twisting around the bed one more time, it dropped near the other anchor.

Everyone was watching the anchors silently, even Harry, who didn't understand anymore if he was going crazy, or if he already was nuts.

One of the men stepped closer to him and sneering, he turned to look at his comrades.

Special Forces? MI6?

"Let's take the boy first, and then we'll see," the man offered, already moving closer to Harry, not noticing the older woman's head shaking.

A hand landed on Harry's shoulder and the man with brown hair and blue eyes was looking him in the eye.

"I call for you…" The man stopped and closed his eyes, before opening them and smirking at Harry, he continued. "Well, well, well. I call for you, Harry Potter."

A minute went by, and Harry's eyebrow started to feel uncomfortable from being raised for so long.

Quiet mutterings from the crowd didn't allow the eyebrow to take a pause.

"Why is nothing happening?"

"So this is Harry Potter."

"Maybe there is something wrong with this room, if our powers don't work here?"

"How long can it take?"

"They say Potter has cheated Death once already…"

The man kept staring at him, only now there was uncertainty in the blue eyes, and a bit of fear.

"Right, and what do you think will happen now?" Harry asked pleasantly, while clenching and unclenching his numbing fingers which had started to heat up.

"I call for you, Harry James Potter!" The man screamed, face tense, and put another hand on Harry's other shoulder.

He had had enough of those lunatics who couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Harry opened his mouth to ask for the man's name, only to stop when the name appeared above the man's head, the letters glowing red.

Bahahaha…Who named their children Asparagus?

Swallowing the laughter _—_ not very successfully, though, as everyone in the room froze _—_ Harry shook off Asparagus' hands off his shoulders, and still hiccupping, he lifted his now again burning hand and touched the vegetable's shoulder.

"My dear Asparagus!"

Harry expected laughter, or any reaction from the crowd, but not the silence that now was so heavy Harry was afraid he'd gone deaf.

The man's blue eyes were frozen with horror, and he was standing like a stone, when Harry bit his lip and squinted his eyes.

"I call for Asparagus!" Two can play this idiotic game.

Harry knew he should be all serious, but he couldn't stop the mad laughter that escaped him, especially when the laughter was echoed by a very familiar voice.

"JAMES!" Harry screamed in joy when he noticed James sitting on the floor, laughing.

Harry ran towards his friend, and hugged him, forgetting about the weird guy, before something clicked in his head and he looked towards the bed with beeping machines, and the body of Jim Moriarty on the bed.

"Eeeee…"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The scream was so loud that Harry had to close his ears with his palms, looking at the now burning Asparagus. The man was being swallowed by flames and no one rushed to help him, his comrades standing with white faces, heads bowed.

"A Torch!" James laughed again, making Harry want to cry from joy.

He had missed James so, so much.

Xxx

Severus looked at Albus, who was holding his right hand on his chest, above his heart, his face twisted in pain. He hoped Dumbledore wouldn't end up with a stroke.

"Albus, are you alright?"

It was a stupid question, considering what they were witnessing from the other side of the mirror.

After they had let Potter into the room, Albus had cast a spell to alert them about any presence, and soon the room was full with small, white dots, that Potter could somehow see and communicate with.

Severus had a very nasty feeling he knew who Potter was talking to, but he refused to accept it.

The scream of "JAMES!" was followed by a sound that reached them all even through the thick walls, as someone started to howl in terrible pain, one white dot becoming larger and redder before exploding and disappearing.

Minutes ticked by, and Severus had to close his eyes with his palm in order to collect himself, when a knock was heard on the mirror, making Severus raise his eyes and look straight into the green eyes of Potter, who was waving from the other side of the mirror.

"Hey, are you planning on returning to Hogwarts, or I can skip the sorting?" Potter asked, smiling, and Severus glanced at Dumbledore, who was now taking a Calming Draught.

So he was right then…Potter could see and talk to Reapers.

Fantastic.

The next thing they needed was to find out that the boy was immortal, and then they could all kill themselves to spare themselves the trouble of seeing what Potter would do to the wizarding world.

Seers could see the Reapers, and as far as Severus knew, that was it. So, was Potter a Seer? He somehow doubted it. Too easy for someone so complicated like Potter.

What a great beginning of the day…

They needed to return to Hogwarts, but Severus did not need any Sorting Hat to tell them where Potter would land. That blasted child would be wearing his House's colours in less than an hour.

Oh, Lily…

"And can you check the news if I have any cool congratulations for the 1st of September? I was told I'd get a surprise when I'd start school, and even though you guys managed to get my friend into a coma, I am still expecting my gift." Potter was chatting with them through the mirror, glancing around the room from time to time.

"Hey, you. Step back from James! I prohibit touching or approaching my friend when you're all drugged out." Potter barked at one white dot, which quickly retreated back, and after the boy yelled "ALL OUT!" all the white dots disappeared from the room.

Merlin…

Mycroft Holmes looked more than alert after Potter's words about surprise, and was talking to Sherlock quietly.

"Severus, take Harry and apparate to Hogwarts. Now." Something in Dumbledore's tone made Snape silently nod and without any arguments, he left the room and entered the other one, stepping close to Potter and offering him his hand. "Now, Potter."

The boy seemed to think something over, before nodding and taking Severus' hand, both disappearing from the building.

xxx

It was so boring.

The chatting first-years with their large, surprised eyes and stupid faces made him want to take out his wand and cast a few Crucios.

He hated children.

The only child he could tolerate was Potter, but then again, he wasn't so sure Potter was a child.

There was something really wrong with the boy, and now the boy was missing, along with Severus and Dumbles.

Harry would come to him later and tell him what had happened, just like he had done after visiting Azkaban and cuddling with a Dementor. Voldemort still didn't know what to think about that.

Potter was a Slytherin through and through, but he still wanted to see the sorting of the boy.

"Professor Quirrell, do you like Hogwarts?"

Argh…Crucio!

"Y-yes, Pr- Professor Si-sinistra."

Crucio!

"Are you excited about teaching Defence against the Dark Arts, Professor?"

Noooo.

"Of- of co-course. I am really lo- looking fo- forward to it."

CRUCIO!

"Do you know that Harry Potter starts his schooling this year?"

"Ye-yes, I do."

He had helped Potter to hide the house-elf body, and they had even agreed on the terms and conditions of their little union. Potter takes the Muggle world, and he, Lord Voldemort, the wizarding. Simple and elegant.

Harry had been honest when he had said that the wizarding world did not interest him as much as the muggle one, and that he had no plans of going against Voldemort, so for the moment there was peace between them.

When he finally would get the Philosopher's Stone and get his body back, he'd take a closer look at the conditions, and if Potter turned out to be an issue, the boy would be removed.

Permanently.

Lord Voldemort tuned out the horrible voices of imbecilic children and the moronic staff who was qualified enough to teach new generations of wizards and witches, but dumb enough to not recognize a Dark Lord drinking tea with them. Voldemort tried to calm his rage and looked at the doors.

Where are you, Harry?

xxx

The Headmaster's seat was still empty, and Draco looked at where his Godfather was supposed to be sitting, only to see an empty space.

He also hadn't seen Potter, which meant the disappearance of all three was connected to each other. His father had explained to him what Potter had been doing before coming to Hogwarts, telling Draco to not lie to the boy under any circumstances and to try and please him. His father had been dead serious when he had promised to remove Draco from Hogwarts if he did not land on Potter's good side, and Draco believed his father's judgement. If dad said Potter was dangerous, then he was.

McGonagall was standing in front of them with a scroll, and Draco glanced at the Mudblood one more time. She was silently looking around, searching the faces of the students, her brows drawn together and a frown on her face, which he would mar with her filthy blood later.

Who was she looking for? Everyone was here, except…He looked around and squinted his eyes while thinking.

Mudblood was looking for Potter. But why?

"Abbot, Hannah!"

It looked like the sorting would start without the Headmaster and Potter. What had happened?

Xxx

They were already five names into the list, and Hermione had still not see HJ. Maybe Mycroft Holmes had been wrong, and the boy wasn't magical?

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione walked towards the Sorting Hat, still thinking about HJ, not noticing the evil glares from a few first-years.

She didn't care which House she would be sorted to. She had to be close to HJ, and he wasn't here.

' _Ah, such potential, Miss Granger. You would have been a great Ravenclaw a year ago.'_ Hermione tensed at the voice in her head. _'But now, all you care about is the goal, not how you reach it.'_

Well, it was true. If she had to go through the fire, water and hell, she'd still follow HJ to make him pay.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Sorting Hat screamed, stopping Hermione's thoughts about HJ, and focusing on the current situation, when the hall was quiet, as she took the hat off and looked around.

The green table wasn't clapping and everyone was staring at her with hostile eyes.

Not caring about the hostile atmosphere, Hermione jumped down from the stool and walked towards the green table, and sat onto the bench, looking around for HJ.

Where are you, HJ?

Xxx

A Mudblood had just gotten sorted into his House, and Voldemort bit the porcelain cup with tea, cracking one front tooth. It wasn't his tooth, so he didn't care what he had broken, and forcing Quirrell to sit quietly, Voldemort cursed Dumbledore for allowing such atrocity to happen.

A Mudblood in Slytherin.

What next?

"Malfoy, Draco!"

He had known the boy was a Malfoy the second the blond had entered the hall, and Voldemort leaned back a bit, looking at Lucius' mini-me.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Sorting Hat needed a second to decide, and Voldemort clapped a bit. Maybe Lucius had managed to produce a not-so-imbecilic offspring?

Draco was now smiling like a shark, winking at the Mudblood.

Oh, interesting. It looked like some bad blood was already between the pureblood prince and the Mudblood. Hmmm…To add Harry to Slytherin, the Mudblood could have an interesting, but rather short life.

Lord Voldemort looked at Granger a little bit closer, before turning his attention to the rest of the idiotic children.

"Lovegood, Luna!"

Ravenclaw. Or St. Mungo's, judging by the vacant, blue eyes. Considering her father published about some mystical creatures that lived only in his head, madness ran in the family.

"RAVENCLAW!"

St. Mungo's could always wait.

"Theodore Nott!"

Death Eater baby. Slytherin.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Parkinson, Pansy!"

Death Eater baby again. Slytherin.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Boring.

"Zabini, Blaise!"

It looked like when he had been hiding in Albanian woods, bodiless, his Death Eaters had created a nursery. Slytherin.

"SLYTHERIN!"

He was always right.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

Hmmm...Normally, the Weasleys went to Gryffindor…Gryffindor.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Pfff…

The boy seemed to agree with Voldemort, as he went to the middle table with tears in his eyes.

Retard.

Minerva McGonagall was at loss at what to do, when there was left only one name on the list, and the boy was still missing, along with Dumbledore and Snape.

The doors swung open, and Voldemort sat more comfortable in his chair, prepared to be entertained by Harry, when he looked at the doors.

What have you done now, Potter?

He knew one idiot with a round hat and stupid face, but the other was unfamiliar to him. What was Fudge doing here, and who was that atrocious monster in pink?

Behind Fudge, appeared Severus and Harry, and then Dumbledore, who closed the doors with a grave expression on his old face.

Whatever Harry had done, had brought Dumbles one step closer to the coffin, and soon the old man would fall into it. Voldemort's mood was back to 'pleased' and he was prepared to watch the show Potter would no doubt produce.

His eyes left Harry's leather-clad form when he felt rage of enormous proportions coming somewhere from the right. Voldemort looked at the Slytherin table, expecting Draco to be the source of hate, only to be surprised by the Mudblood, while Draco was smirking.

She knew Harry, and she hated him as much as Voldemort hated Dumbledore.

Well, well, well…The Mudblood sat like a stone statue, glaring at the moving Potter.

"Can I have a table for one?" Potter started the comedy, and Voldemort was the only one smiling, because both Severus and Dumbledore looked really, really concerned.

"Onto the stool. Now!" Severus wasn't very nice to Harry, and Voldemort mentally wrote down an X next to Snape's name. One Crucio.

"Clean it first, I don't know who sat there before." Even if Harry turned out to be an issue, he'd probably keep the boy alive, for entertaining purposes only.

"Harry, go sit onto the stool and put the hat on." Whatever Harry had done, Dumbledore was close to losing it, Voldemort could see it clearly. A pang of jealousy went through him, as he remembered it had taken three Killing Curses to fly in Dumbledore's direction for the old man to look at Voldemort with such eyes.

Potter rolled his green eyes and moved towards the hat, which he then started to inspect in detail.

"I think I can see lice. YUCK!" Potter threw the sorting hat onto the floor and kicked it with his foot.

"MISTER POTTER!" It was McGonagall who had lost it, screaming at the boy, simultaneously making the whole student body freeze.

Yes, yes. That's your hero. Look closely.

The Mudblood was white in the face, which meant she had known Harry, but not as Harry Potter.

Interesting. Did Harry kick her puppy?

Potter was looking around, still not sitting onto the stool, when his eyes met Granger's.

Voldemort saw recognition in Harry's eyes, shock, and then the green eyes started to twinkle with laughter.

"Hey, Granger, how are mom and dad?" Potter's loud question, asked in a mocking tone that could rival Bellatrix', caused the Mudblood to jump from the bench, and dash towards Harry, only to be stopped by Snape.

One more Crucio. He wanted to see the show.

Draco was standing, like the rest of the Slytherin house, looking at the scene.

"You! You are Harry Potter!" Granger was screaming, her eyes mad with rage and incredibility.

"No shit." Harry laughed before calming under Dumbledore's freezing gaze. Hold on, Potter, we'll get rid of the old coot soon.

"You tortured my parents! You are a criminal!"

Well, well, well…His Harry was full with surprises. Slytherin House was waiting for Potter's comeback, looking at him closely, just like everyone in the hall.

"Granger, you're such a whiny otter. Do you like your new teeth, or do you want to try again?"

Hehehe.

"POTTER, ONTO THE STOOL, NOW!"

Snape's roar finally got to Potter _—_ one more Crucio _—_ , and the boy moved towards the stool, taking the hat from McGonagall's hands, not noticing the smiling Slytherin table. Granger was seated back onto the bench, with Snape standing near, not taking his eyes from the snakes, who looked ready to kiss Potter and kill the Mudblood.

"You give me any lice, and I'll eat you alive. Got it?" Harry asked the Sorting Hat and waited for its nod to place it onto his head.

Voldemort _—_ Quirrell _—_ had finished the second cup of tea, and the hat was still quiet.

"I think this thing is broken. Do you have warranty, because I did not break it?" Potter asked from under the Hat. Voldemort actually agreed with Harry, since ten minutes had gone by and the hat had not said a word.

"I am thinking." The Sorting's Hat mouth opened and Potter huffed impatiently. "Think faster."

"I cannot think any faster!"

"Then you should be replaced."

"I cannot be replaced!"

"Stop it!" Dumbledore was really not in the mood, and Voldemort promised to learn from Potter how to drive the old coot insane. "Sort him into the House he belongs to, and that's it. No more talking!"

He wasn't sure, but for a second, he thought he heard the Sorting Hat mutter 'imbeciles', before it started to think about Potter's Slytherin House. It couldn't be any other.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

WHAT?

"WHAT?!" Severus was shocked, just like everyone else. The silence was interrupted Potter's whine.

"Hey, I want the green colours. I hate red!" Harry was now gesturing towards Slytherins, while looking at his red tie with a frown.

"Sit down at the Gryffindor table, Harry, and do so quickly." Merlin, what had Potter done? Dumbledore was beyond mad, and Fudge looked all white and sweaty. Potter had done something in the muggle world, and Voldemort couldn't wait to find out what.

Dumbledore was now standing before the student body, tense and sad, and Voldemort started to tap his finger…

"The 1st of September is supposed to be a great day for everyone, the new and the old students. Sometimes, however, horrible things happen, and there is not much we can do." Dumbledore paused and looked at Harry, who was still inspecting his new clothing, not paying any attention to the gawking children around him.

"All muggleborn students will have a day off, and there will be no classes tomorrow." He had been correct, something had happened in the Muggle world.

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a second, and continued in a grave voice.

"Today a series of terrorist attacks have shaken Great Britain." The silence was incredible, and some of the students _—_ Mudbloods _—_ had hands over their mouths.

"You will get the newspapers in a few minutes, and I am asking you to try and calm down. You are safe here." Voldemort looked at Draco who was whisper-talking to other Slytherins, looking at Potter from time to time.

So Draco knew about Harry's interesting life outside of the wizarding world. And it meant Lucius knew much more…Hmmm…

The birds appeared with scrolls of newspapers, and Voldemort couldn't wait to get his hands on it.

"I am so, so sorry." Dumbledore smiled a sad smile, and wiped the corner of his eye. Was the old fool crying?

Opening the Daily Prophet, Voldemort blinked a few times, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. When he imagined Harry's guardian, he thought of a simple criminal who stole wallets, but now, he could finally understand the magnitude of Potter's issues in the Muggle world and the reason for Dumbledore's horrible mood.

A few students _—_ Mudbloods _—_ started crying after reading their newspapers, and Voldemort could only stare at the numbers.

He was the most feared Dark Lord in centuries, and he had killed maybe a hundred, or two hundred, people, and this was done by a Muggle who was Potter's guardian. He made him, Lord Voldemort, look like an amateur.

At least it only concerned the Muggles, as very few wizards _—_ and muggle-friendly only, so they had deserved it _—_ visited the places where Potter's guardian had placed the surprises.

He would be more careful with Harry now, Voldemort thought as he looked over the headlines again.

" **Muggle Britain under attack! Chemical weapon explosion causes hundreds dead, and even more injured in the airport bomb explosion."**

And then at the next headline. **"Queen Victoria, the flagman of the British touristic fleet, is blown to pieces in the middle of the ocean. Over three thousand people dead, many lost in the water."**

And the last one, was a picture of an ugly, yellow, one-eyed creature with balloons, and a **"Happy 1** **st** **September, HJ! Fireworks for my boy!"** written on the colourful balloons, one in a form of a ship, and the other in a form of a plane.

Voldemort was shocked, and he was a little bit scared, while looking at Harry, who was now colouring his tie with a green pen, not bothered by the tears and pain of his fellow students. Harry then put away the pen and reached towards the mashed potatoes and the roasted chicken.

"Yummy."

Potter was now looking at Granger's face, two tables separating them, chewing a chicken wing. He was mocking her, and the Mudblood knew that. She looked ready to kill Harry here and now.

It would be a very interesting year, Voldemort noted and also reached towards the chicken. All the drama made him forget about the dinner, so he was really hungry.

Biting into the roasted chicken, Lord Voldemort smiled.

Yummy indeed.

xxx

 _a/n I feel like a horrible person, writing about terrorist attacks when just recently a plane crashed- not by itself, imho- and innocent people have died. Since I'm not stupid, I know I alerted some people when I googled information about weapons and stuff for the story. I hope that the real security forces in every land will prevent things that I allowed to happen in the story. I hope for people like Mycroft to stop such nightmares from becoming real in real life. But this is fanfiction, so, I apologize to those whose feelings I hurt, but I couldn't not write it. And if you're already bothered by the story, then please remember I still have one nuclear bomb somewhere around in the story, and the story is actually only just beginning. For me, the perception of a character is very important, so I have to do what I have to do. I don't have a vendetta against London (I love the city!), but the places have to be accurate, as Voldemort and purebloods wouldn't care if it had happened somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, let me know what you think, ok? Thanks for reading and please review._


	10. Dreams

_Beta : Julie. fjad_

 **Chapter Ten**

 **Dreams**

He was drifting between sleep and consciousness, in his bed in a room that he had to share with three nasty pigs, in the Gryffindor tower which had been designed and built by a colour-blind maniac. His eyelids were closing slowly, before quickly opening, only to start closing again. Harry was trying to stay awake, as he could feel the sand in the air, and the moisture with high temperatures approach his mind from the world of sleep. A dream he had seen many times before was starting to repeat, and Harry tried to fight it off, not wanting to see it today. He needed to dream about something important for him, and not watch a scene with two complete strangers, who Harry had never seen or heard before. Harry still had no idea who it was, or why he was seeing the dream in the first place.

He sighed when he felt his eyelids close, and giving up, he embraced the dream.

 _A lightning bolt was visible in a series of spiderwebs on the sky, before one powerful charge struck the ground._

 _The dream always began with the strike of lightning and the man, who appeared with it from the skies._

 _The air was humid, but dry at the same time. The sand was between the man's toes as he walked through it, glancing with interest at the half-finished pyramid. He was only wearing a long, shimmering cloak, with the hood on, and the front left opened. His front jewels were hidden by a bunch of leaves in the form of a cube that somehow didn't fall off. A large stone, seated into a ring which was on the man's left hand, caught the light from the sunrays. In his right hand he was twirling what looked like a small sceptre, slowly approaching a man who had appeared out of nowhere as well._

 _The two figures were now standing in the desert, looking at the construction of the pyramid._

" _The longer I know you, the longer I struggle to comprehend why everybody thinks I'm the strange one when clearly the crown is yours, my favourite nephew."_

 _Harry could see the elder man clearly, while the younger was wearing the hood of the only article of cloth he had on_ _ **—**_ _a shimmering cloak._

" _Funny. It's double-removed, and I am your only nephew, uncle dear."_

" _Stop arguing with your favourite uncle and give me a hug." The man was in his fifties, clad in a black tunic that had runic symbols around the collar, and he had strange, yellow eyes. He stepped forward, opening his arms to hug the younger man. Somehow Harry was sure that the hooded stranger was younger, and not only because of the nephew reference._

 _The younger man hugged his uncle, and then stepped back._

" _Tell me, nephew, are you planning on sticking around? Maybe we could do something fun together…" The older man was moving his eyebrows up and down, waiting for the reply. He looked truly interested, and had a very hopeful expression on his face._

" _You always sound so perverse, uncle. No wonder Auntie hates your guts." The younger man stopped to pick up a stone, and continued, while inspecting it, "I don't know yet, to be honest, and I was planning on you inviting me over for a stay, until I decide. Auntie kicked me out today."_

" _That bitch…"_

" _And since I haven't seen my folks in ages, I am now homeless."_

 _The younger man really amused the older man, who was looking at him with a tender smile._

" _You're always homeless, nephew. Nothing new there," the older man muttered, inspecting the pyramid many people were building. "How many pyramids do you need?" The younger man asked, throwing the stone he had picked up before._

" _Five is alright, I think. Maybe more. If you say you won't stay, then I'll make more. If you stay, there is no point in building them in the first place. So, what did Auntie say? She wants you to do your job, while you fool around, doing nothing, am I correct?"_

" _She said if I don't plan on sticking around, I can go to hell and drive you insane instead of her. So I'm here."_

 _The older man was looking at the younger pensively, before replying. "And you'll behave? I don't need any nasty surprises at home." A hole appeared in the sand, glowing red, and even Harry could hear the horrible screams from below, while both men didn't even flinch._

" _You hurt my feelings. I don't shit where I live."_

" _So rude… Love it! Promise you'll behave?" The older man laughed a bit, asking, and then patted the younger man on the cloak-clad shoulder, as he nodded._

" _Then welcome to hell, my boy."_

Green eyes opened and Harry yawned, before rubbing his eyes and rolling onto his side, to hide more comfortably under the warm blankets, when his arse felt the chill in the room and then Harry was on the floor. Looking at the tiny bed, Harry groaned. No wonder he kept falling down from the bed. He was used to king-size beds only, and this one was at the most a single bed, like in a jail, with dirty, nasty cellmates.

Growling, Harry looked at the snoring, drooling Neville Longbottom, then at the snoring Dean Thomas and lastly, at Seamus Finnegan, who was now sitting up in his bed.

"What are you staring at?" Harry asked the sandy-haired idiot, who wouldn't stop staring at Harry's sitting form.

"I would choose words carefully, Potter. You're not in the muggle world anymore, and here, no one will help you if I kick your arse."

Bahahaha…He had no one? He had the Headmaster, who was willing to break any laws to get Harry to cooperate, then he had Lord Voldemort, who would first kill, and then ask questions, and he had Lucius Malfoy, who wasn't as impressive as Dumbledore and Voldemort, but still the blond was capable of many nasty things.

"Are you deaf, Potter?"

And also, today he was going to make friends with the Ministry, to secure his backside from Dumbledore's and Voldemort's machinations. Since classes were cancelled for today, Harry had a scheduled meeting with Dolores Umbridge, the new Professor of Wizarding Politics.

"You really are crazy."

Rolling his eyes, still not bothering to answer, Harry got up and fastening a curtain _ **—**_ it was red, so he had somehow had one of the curtains from the Gryffindor Tower as cloth _ **—**_ over his shoulders, he shuffled towards the bathroom, his wand secured on the side of his underwear.

"Your voice makes me want to urinate. Till later." Harry slammed the door shut, ignoring the rounded eyes and expression of anger on Finnegan's face.

Xxx

He had already told Dumbledore, straight after the dinner, than he wasn't aware of what exactly Jim Moriarty had planned, and he had not detonated any of the bombs.

He was innocent.

And now, he had a Ministry official to turn into a lapdog, Harry thought as he knocked on the door of Professor Umbridge.

After he had showered, and was finally satisfied with his cleanliness, he was interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who had calmly explained to Harry why he needed to free the bathroom so that the others could also shower and brush their teeth. He knew why, but he appreciated Professor's try. His cellmates were such pigs that they needed a swimming pool full with antiseptic solution, and to soak in it for a few centuries, but no matter what Harry thought, he had to free the bathroom after an hour in there.

He didn't care about his enraged cellmates, and quickly dressing into the disgusting red uniform, Harry went to meet his next toy. Professor McGonagall was silent as she led Harry down the corridor, and after looking at him for a second, Professor McGonagall left, just as silently. The woman was pensive and Harry looked at her retreating form with squinted eyes.

Her he liked.

After a knock, the door opened and a pink frog was smiling at him. Nasty bitch.

And her not.

"Mister Potter, glad you could make it in time." I want to murder you. Slowly.

"I wouldn't miss the meeting with the Ministry's trusted official for anything in the world."

Bah.

"Come in, Mister Potter, and help yourself to some tea."

He was in the most horrible room he had seen _**—**_ after Azkaban _ **—**_ and it was pink, pink, pink. Everything was pink and pictures of kittens were everywhere. Harry wanted to take a knife and cut his eyes out before sticking the knife into the fat neck of the crazy toad.

The wizarding world did not have any normal people.

Harry poured himself a cup of tea, not noticing Umbridge's nasty smile, and took a sip.

YUCK.

"Great tea, Professor Madam Umbridge." He'd take a cup with him, to clean the toilet seat in the dorm with the solution the crazy idiot was calling 'tea'. No, no...that was wrong. To have the toilet cleaned for him.

"Oh, Mister Potter, I see that your manners are not what I had expected, after having a talk with Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape." Her voice was grating on his nerves, and Harry had to keep his psychopathic tendencies in a firm grip, before he created even more problems. He needed lapdogs, not enemies; those he had enough of in both worlds.

She didn't add the title of 'Professor' to any of the men, and Harry smiled inwardly, while looking the woman in the eyes.

"If you forgive my blunt statement, Madam Professor," Harry trailed off, waiting for the woman's nod, and continued in a polite and sweet tone, "I don't think Snape or Dumbledore show enough respect for Ministerial authority, and we have a few disagreements because of that."

"Drink a bit more tea, Mister Potter. And please do continue."

Harry took one more sip of the disgusting tea and swallowing, he smiled a small, polite smile.

"They don't care about rules, and they disregard the fact that the Ministry is the one and only to decide what should be happening in the wizarding world, and what not."

The toad's thoughts were like an open book, and Harry swallowed some more tea so as to not laugh out loud.

"I see that maybe I have had a wrong impression of you, Mister Potter." The bitch sat opposite of him and looked closely at Harry's face. "There is still a problem with what happened yesterday, Mister Potter."

"Please call me Harry, Madam Professor." And don't you dare call my fireworks a problem! It was a gift from the bottom of Jim's heart.

"With pleasure, Harry. Can you tell me more about those explosions?" He really didn't know that much...While he had spent somewhere around four years with James, he didn't know that much about Moriarty's business. It was boring.

Harry was quiet for a second, before leaning a bit forward and whispering, "Madam Professor, I will tell you everything, because I can see that you're a very wise and knowledgeable Ministry official, but please, don't tell others. They would lock me up."

Hermione Granger still hadn't bothered him, but Harry could tell it was about to change.

"Of course, Harry. Tell me everything, and we'll look for a solution together. Drink a bit more tea, please."

Yeah, yeah, he had already drained his cup which consisted of tea only to a half, the other half was filled with Veritaserum. The toad had zero Occlumency knowledge, and Harry started coughing, as he saw a memory of Umbridge shaving her armpits. Don't think about your other hair, don't think….

It was a curse to be able to see everything a person had done in his, or in this case, her life.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember Azkaban. When he thought about the dirt in that prison, he didn't want to murder the crazy hag here and now.

He'd wait.

If Umbridge had used the same Veritaserum as they had used on James, then the person who had brewed it was a retard who couldn't brew potions, since they didn't work properly. It shouldn't surprise anyone that the bombs went off. It would be hilarious, if it had been Snape who fucked up all the batches.

"Madam Professor…I grew up neglected by the drug-addicted, magic-hating muggles, before our neighbour, Mister Brook, decided to interfere after…" Harry stopped his muttering and wiped his left eye where a crystal tear was shimmering in the sun rays.

"Yes, yes, continue, Harry. After what?" Talk about excited...

"After he found out the muggles had beaten me to almost death." There...

"And why did they do they done such a thing?" Because.

"I brought a small, tiny, hungry, dirty kitten into my room, and shared my only piece of bread with it." As if...

"A kitten?" Toad's voice was now tender, and full with compassion.

Property of Harry Potter, Harry wanted to write on the toad's head. Gotcha.

"I didn't even have the time to give it a name. It had one green eye and only three paws, and when my aunt saw the poor, innocent kitty, she threw it out of the wi-window." Two tears were now rolling down Harry's face, and about a dozen on Umbridge's.

"It died?" The hag half-breathed, half-sobbed.

"N-no." Harry hiccupped, and took the offered tissue to wipe his eyes. "My uncle found it lying on its back, barely breathing from all the traumas, and then..."

"Yes?" It was a soft whisper, and it made Harry hit his chest, to not laugh.

"I tried to save it, I really did." Harry swallowed some more tea. "But Uncle Vernon kept screaming that cats were the devil's servants, then took a knife and cut off the kitten's head, calling it a filthy demon, making me watch the sufferings of the innocent kitty. I remember it's last _miau_. It's killing me." Harry started to sob in earnest, and he could see Umbridge wipe her teary eyes.

"Devil's servants...filthy demon…" The gullible toad repeated in stunned whisper, and now she was looking at Harry with different eyes.

"Harry, but how is it connected to the bombs that have exploded yesterday?"

"It's a secret that only Dumbledore and his Muggle friends _ **—**_ Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes _ **—**_ know about, and Richard Brook, the neighbour, had found this secret out, and he just couldn't live with it. He just couldn't…"

"What secret, Harry? Tell me!" What would James say about his story?

"The muggles work together with Dumbledore, and our Ministry doesn't know anything. They lie to you, they lie to everyone. They are dirty, ruthless smugglers."

"Smugglers? And what are they smuggling?" The toad was close to jumping in her chair from the anticipation.

"Madam Umbridge, you will think me insane." Harry whispered, trying to not laugh at the serious expression on her ugly face.

"I believe you, Harry. You can trust me."

Yeah, right. The fact that he had drunk more than a vial of Veritaserum had probably helped Umbridge in her delusional beliefs. He didn't know if it was his weirdness acting again, or the bootleg potion.

"Kittens, Madam Professor," Harry breathed out, looking in the shocked, toady eyes.

"What?" She asked, looking at his empty cup of tea, and then in his eyes. "Tell me, Harry, tell me everything you know!"

"They catch and steal kittens all over the world, force them to hunger for many weeks, transporting them in huge containers with at least one thousand kittens inside." Harry paused to look at the toad, whose face was twisted with rage and eyes glistering with tears. "And they skin the poor, innocent, sweet kittens, while they are alive and their soul-tearing screams _ **—**_ "

"STOP!" Umbridge cried, and took a vial from her drawer and poured it into her cup. Ah, Calming Draught.

Nice.

"I am so, so sorry, Madam. Richard Brook wanted to stop those smugglers, to save the other kittens in the world, and those criminals made up all the nonsense, trying to cover up their traces."

"Your friend wanted to save the kittens?" James had a new fangirl, and he didn't even know. Damn you, Holmes!

"Exactly, mam. He wanted the evil guys to pay for what they had done to the poor, innocent, furry, sweet kittens."

Considering he was under Veritaserum _ **—**_ brewed by a moron _ **—**_ then everything he said was true.

"Is everything you told me is truth?"

Well, duh...

"Yes, Madam Professor. I am a honest person with moral obligations, and I want to work for the Ministry of Magic when I grow up. I am not a liar, mam."

The Professor of Magical Politics had so many noodles around her ears, that Harry was afraid she'd fall through the floor, into the dungeons, and directly into Snape's new batch of bootleg potion before Harry was finished with her brainwashing.

Maybe SS was a dealer? A good business idea _ **—**_ to add water into the potions and use them at school where no one cared anyway, with Dark Lords and crazy people running around the castle, and an oblivious Headmaster who needed some serious medication himself, and to sell the correct potions on the black market...Maybe Snape wasn't that bad?

Didn't Lucius mention that Snape was his old acquaintance? Magical Walter White and Co...

Umbridge looked close to getting a stroke, and Harry raised his eyebrows, when the woman started to sob into her napkin that had pictures of kittens on the corners.

It took the toad at least a minute to calm down, and then she was looking at Harry with determined eyes.

"We'll work together, Harry. I can see your devotion to the Ministry, and your respect for authorities, alongside with your kind heart and pure soul. I'll see what I can do to help your friend, Harry, and you'll be the Ministry's eyes and ears where I cannot be. We'll restore the justice."

Too easy.

"Thank you, mam, thank you. Those kittens deserve a better life." Harry started to cry harder because the only other choice was to roll on the floor and roar from laughter. A tender touch on his shoulder made him shudder inwardly, as he was embraced by the ugly, too-sweet-smelling toad.

"You're a good boy, Harry. A very good boy."

You bet I am.

xxx

"So, you're saying that Potter is on our side, Malfoy?"

Draco rolled his eyes at the question that he had been asked all evening and morning, and glanced at Granger, who looked like she hadn't slept. Considering Pansy was her roommate, it didn't surprise Draco.

He opened his mouth to say "YES" when the entrance to the Slytherin dormitories opened and there stood Potter, with an ugly pink creature, who was now their Professor of Politics.

Draco watched curiously, as Potter whispered something to Umbridge, nodding his head in Granger's direction. Granger wasn't looking at the new guests, otherwise she would have seen how their new Professor's eyes glazed in rage, and she nodded at Potter, before turning around and leaving.

Draco opened his mouth to ask what Potter was doing here, when the boy motioned for Draco and a few others to quietly come to him.

Granger still hadn't noticed anything as she had her back to the entrance, and Draco got up, followed by Blaise and Theodore, and approached Potter.

"You're a Malfoy. Pleasure, Draco. If there is one family which knows what it's doing, it's yours." Potter was talking quietly, even though they were outside of the dormitory. Draco almost beamed with pride, before quickly offering his hand to Potter. "And you are Potter. Father says you also know what you're doing, and my dad doesn't say that often."

They shook hands, smiling at each other, and then Harry shook hands with Theo and Blaise.

"Blaise Zabini."

"Theodore Nott."

"Harry Potter."

"I have to tell you a very important secret, because we need to keep together if we want to win." Potter looked at them with serious eyes, and then leaned a bit forward, lowering his voice even more.

"Alright, Potter, we're listening," Blaise answered in interested voice, and Draco nodded eagerly.

"The Mudblood is working on bringing us down. Granger prepares the ground for Muggle invasion."

Draco had known from the start that Granger was a piece of shit, but to find out to which extension her filthy plans went…So that was why his father had been working with Potter.

"How do you know it?" Draco asked, white faced. Muggle invasion….Just like in the bedtime stories his father used to read him when Draco was younger.

"Because I'm Harry Potter, that's how. And I plan on stopping those filthy creatures from getting their nasty hands on what belongs only us. This is our world, our magic. We are purebloods."

Draco found himself nodding while Potter spoke, only to stop when Potter said he was a pureblood.

"Em, Potter, don't take offence, but you're a half-blood." Looked like Theo wasn't the smartest of the bunch, but it was a brave statement.

Potter's squinted eyes made Draco feel really uncomfortable, and he wondered what to say to Potter to avoid offending him.

"My mother was a witch, and my father was a wizard. They both attended Hogwarts, so how the hell am I a half-blood? My mother was a Mudblood, but she was still a witch. So, I'm a pureblood."

Draco pursed his lips, thinking. Potter was actually right. And he had called his mom a Mudblood.

"Hey, you're a pureblood in the first generation. How cool!" Theo was now smiling at Harry, who nodded in return.

"What did you do to the Mudblood's parents?" Draco asked, his face full with interest, looking at the now smirking Potter.

"I provided the muggles with the treatment they deserved."

He would find out the details later, since now was not the time, Draco thought, as he noticed their Defence against the Dark Arts teacher approach them.

"Till later, Draco, Theo, Blaise." Potter looked each in the eye, stressing their names, and Draco nodded. "Till later, Harry." Potter winked at him, and then turned to Professor Quirrell, who was waiting in the corridor, looking at their pureblood company with a raised eyebrow.

Dad was always right. Potter was dangerous, but not for them. He couldn't wait to write Lucius Malfoy and made him proud. Harry was his friend now.

Xxx

He hadn't laughed in a long time. The last time such laughter had left his lips, he had found out where the Potters had been hiding.

"What is so funny?" Potter's whine dropped his great mood a bit, but it was still somewhere around 'happy'.

"You are immune to Veritaserum?" It was just too much, imagining the old fool's face when he'd find out about this little fact. It would make Dumbles lift his left leg and step with it into the coffin. Voldemort stopped laughing as he thought about which flowers he'd bring to Dumbledore's grave. He'd piss on it first _ **—**_ even bodiless he would have found a way to do so _ **—**_ , but then he'd still put flowers, as a reminder of Lord Voldemort's greatness. Roses were out of the question, and everything else was too nice...Should he bring a cactus, maybe? What if it starts to blossom... Or better, the Manticora roots, to scare away the visitors with its sweet screams?

"How the hell am I supposed to know that? Maybe the batch was just fucked up. Snape has so much acid that maybe he breathed onto the potion and ruined it. " Maybe he should ask Potter about the flowers. What would Harry bring to Dumbledore's grave?

A bomb, probably.

"I highly doubt it, Harry." Voldemort was looking at the boy, many thoughts running through his mind, but not forgetting the reason for his initially good mood. He hadn't slept all night because he kept thinking about the Philosopher's stone and his Horcruxes, when a bizzare, but insanely interesting idea popped into his mind. When Voldemort thought about his diary-horcrux, an image of Harry appeared before his eye, and after a second of sheer terror, pure euphoria took over his soul.

What if…

Impossible, but then again, it was Harry Potter he was talking about.

"Oh, and I need to learn a spell to influence someone's mind."

Potter was talking about Granger, and their new idiot Professor, who would test the Mudblood under Veritaserum later.

Harry had just told him what had happened to Granger and her parents, and even shared that Umbridge wasn't on the 'Kill first' list. He still didn't know what Potter really wanted from him, and while Harry shared a lot, he also 'accidently' forgot to add details here and there...He was no Umbridge, and no Dumbledore. If there was one person Potter would not fool, it would be him, Lord Voldemort.

"And your godfather? When will he be released from St. Mungo's?" Voldemort asked the boy, who was now lounging on his sofa. "Feet off the sofa, Potter, NOW!" A small hex left his wand and hit Potter in the side.

The idiot boy jumped at the barked command, and shaking his head, he put his feet onto the floor, muttering something about 'haloperidol'.

What did it mean? He had never heard of such a word. Was Potter insulting him, and he didn't know? He'd need to find out what it was.

"Sirius will be out in a week, and then we move to Grimmauld Place, the Black's residence. So, will you show me the spell that I need?" Harry was biting the nail of his thumb, and Voldemort wished to show Harry another curse, but from the same category...It started with a C and ended with an O…

The one thing he missed more than his body, was the ability to cast Cruciatus on a daily-basis.

Smirking, Lord Voldemort raised Quirrell's stupid wand, and directed it at Potter.

He'd test two theories with one shot.

" _Imperio!"_

Harry looked at the wand movement, and was now patiently waiting for an explanation.

Truth time, Harry...

" _ **Stand on your knees and bow to me."**_

After three seconds Lord Voldemort repeated the command, and seeing Potter's clear, green eyes, he already knew. It all became clear to him.

" _ **Is there anything else you want, like Dumbledore's heart, or the Philosopher's stone? I guarantee it will happen sooner than me getting on my knees."**_

He had been right. Potter could understand and speak Parseltongue, without noticing the difference.

And also, his Horcrux was immune to the Imperius Curse. What Voldemort would give to just try out a one small Crucio on Harry, and see if it worked…

Maybe at least one of three Unforgivable Curses worked on the boy?

Voldemort really hoped Crucio worked because otherwise he wasn't sure how to control Potter later on.

The boy had extremely advanced Legilimency skills, he was immune to Veritaserum, scared Dementors and was all in all was a very strange kid. Whoever Harry was, Voldemort wouldn't have been able to find a better place for his Horcrux, as now there was no more doubt. Potter had a part of his own soul, and he was the unintentional Horcrux Voldemort hadn't even thought about until yesterday.

As long as Harry lived _ **—**_ and the boy looked hard to destroy, but not for him _ **—**_ he, the great Dark Lord, would be immortal. And then he'd kill Harry himself, along with the Horcrux.

"Very good, Harry. It will work on the Mudblood, she's not you. Just say 'Imperio', and make sure no one is around when you cast it." And I won't tell you anything I have found out about you.

Such a bad boy, hiding things from me, Lord Voldemort thought and his eyes shone red for a second.

You are mine, Harry Potter.

xxx

It was evening time, and he still hadn't found out what haloperidol meant, so when he stumbled upon Severus, Voldemort decided to try a different tactic. He wasn't Lord Voldemort now, he was idiotic Pro-Professor Quirrell.

"Pro-Professor Sn-Snape! May I ask you a qu-question?" At Severus' raised eyebrow and nod, he continued. "Do-do you k-know what haloperidol is?"

Harry would pay dearly for that word, whatever it meant, as now, for the first time in his life, Lord Voldemort saw Severus Snape fight a smile that so wanted to appear on his usually blank face, that Snape had to cough to hide his laugh behind his fist.

Three Crucios in a row. For both. And then two more. For each.

"I see you have spoken to Mister Potter, Professor Quirrell. He said you needed Haloperidol?" He didn't have to be Lord Voldemort to hear the tinkling laughter hidden behind the man's perfect self-control. Even Quirrell could hear it now, and nodded, like the idiot he was.

"Do you have nausea and vomiting?" Snape was dying inside from laughter, and Voldemort mentally raised his bone-white wand and cast a Crucio, while Quirrell shook his idiotic head. "Are you in alcohol withdrawal, maybe?"

Double Crucio.

"No!" Liar, liar...Quirrell loved vodka, and drank a bottle a day before Lord Voldemort took over.

Snape actually smiled. "I think Mister Potter tried to say that you were not very fit in the mental department, Professor."

Since Voldemort was busy fuming with rage, then Quirrell's face remained stupid, making Severus sigh, and licking his thin lips, explain in details.

"Haloperidol is a typical antipsychotic medication. It is used in the treatment of schizophrenia, nausea and vomiting, delirium, agitation, acute psychosis, and hallucinations in alcohol withdrawal. Since we have excluded all other possibilities, only few are still there for you to choose from. Have a good evening, Professor Quirrell." Snape swallowed the laughter again, and nodding, went away towards the dungeons, the black cloak billowing behind his tall figure.

Antipsychotic...

Oh, you wait, Harry Potter.

xxx

 _a/n Thank you to everyone who had a minute and left a review._


	11. Ex's and Oh's

_Beta: Julie. fjad_

 _Inspired by Elle King and her song "Ex's and Oh's"._

—

Chapter Eleven

 **Ex's and Oh's**

 _The man was wearing a long, shimmering cloak with a hood, clasped in the front with a large brooch, and he held a rod that was the size of a medium-length wand, but unlike a wand, the rod wasn't pointy. The rod's tip had a round ball with a vertical outer ring around it, and the ring was constantly twirling around its axis, tempo unstable and unpredictable._

 _He was standing on a cloud, looking below, considering it all over again._

 _Harry had seen this dream only once before, however, now the difference was that he could see through the man's eyes._

 _Awesome!_

 _Now that would be an adrenaline rush, Harry thought while sitting comfortably in the man's head. At least, now he knew what Voldemort must be feeling like, while sharing a body with someone. Even in a dream it was weird, but Harry didn't complain. This dream he liked if only for the special effects. If he could put this dream on tape and show in cinemas, the box office would have been his, all world records smashed and crumbled. Now that was a good business idea..._

 _On the cloud to his left_ _ **—**_ _or the man's right, to be correct_ _ **—**_ _sat the same man he had seen in the desert, who was now meditating._

 _On the cloud to his right sat a woman with androgynous face, with short, edge-cut, blond hair and blue eyes, which were focused on the canvas before her. She was humming while drawing, and from time to time her eyes would jump to the form of his uncle before focusing on the canvas again._

 _Even though it was his dream, Harry couldn't see the painting, and he couldn't point his finger as to why it felt like a déjà vu, and he wasn't talking about the dream. Something in the man's uncle and aunt screamed at him in recognition, but the scream was mute, or he had gone deaf because he didn't hear the answer from his inner voices._

 _His wild imagination provided him with an idea, but its ridiculousness made even him cringe._

" _I initiate the countdown." His host had finally said a few words._

 _The older man jumped up from his meditating position and started clapping excitedly._

" _You old fool, why are you jumping in glee? The last time our dear nephew initiated the countdown, it lasted over a hundred years. Before he decides to do his job, you'll lose your last marbles." The blonde woman half-sneered and turned the canvas, so that both men could see it._

 _A large, black goat with huge horns and yellow eyes was looking at them from the picture, and to him, it looked like one of the most perfect paintings he had ever seen, and he'd seen many. Harry wished he could turn back around and watch the scene between the uncle and the aunt, but he couldn't, because the man whose head he was occupying wasn't looking at them anymore, but below him._

 _Asshole._

 _It sounded fun, and Harry regretted he couldn't see the quarrel._

" _You ragged pigeon! I'll show you my horns when they'll tear through your un-beating heart!"_

 _Hahaha...Ragged pigeon. The uncle was funny._

" _Flea-bitten goat! Worthless, unholy demon!"_

 _Not the best of comebacks, but it would do._

" _Like you're better, sister."_

" _Don't call me your sister!"_

 _Talk about troubled families. Those two didn't look very happy to be related, and Harry wondered, not for the first time, who their parents were. The one answer he had did not fit his criterion of rational atheist, so the question was left unanswered for the time being._

" _But you are one, Gabi! We are the same, you and I!"_

" _Are you completely out of your mind? You're the fallen one, while I serve our Father with devotion you will never understand! And don't you dare call me Gabi!"_

 _Well, like he had said, rational atheist._

" _Pigeon."_

" _Goat."_

" _Two minutes."_

 _Harry stopped snickering when his host said those two words and a large clock appeared before him._

 _A symbol that looked like a "4" was engraved into the clock, directly in the middle, and Harry bit his lip trying to remember what it meant. He had seen it somewhere in the books, but where?_

" _Nephew, are you serious or are you pulling our legs?" Both the older man and the woman were standing now at full height, near each other, completely serious, waiting for the man's answer._

" _The balance is off and cannot be restored. So no, I am not joking." Harry turned with the man, and faced the other occupants of the clouds._

 _The woman_ _ **—**_ _Gabi, or so the older man had called her_ _ **—**_ _was staring at him with large, hopeful, blue eyes._

" _You'll really do your job, nephew?" Harry was sure it wasn't often anyone heard his aunt talk in such a soft voice._

" _Your favourite uncle is going to cry from joy now." The older man sobbed, while quickly going through a large, thick book that appeared out of nowhere in his hands._

" _At least half is ours, so hands off!" The woman grabbed the book from the man's hands, only to find the older man hanging onto it for a dear life._

" _Mine! Mine, mine, mine! All mine!"_ _His uncle and aunt were glaring at each other, their faces centimetres away, noses almost touching, teeth bared in hatred and determination._

 _Whoever this guy was, he had a really fucked up family. Harry didn't know if this dream was from watching too much supernatural movies_ _ **—**_ _he had slept with the lights on for a month after watching "The Ring" and he had demanded for the well in their yard to be removed permanently_ _ **—**_ _or because of his endless fantasy. There was a border between sane and insane even for him, and as long as he considered himself sane, he would remain an atheist. He used to love churches on Sundays only because he was left alone in the house at the Dursleys'. With James...Well, it wasn't a shock to find out that James did not go to church._

 _God forbid the Dursleys take him, the freak, with them. What would people say if his demonic powers acted up because of the presence of God in the church? What would the neighbours think? Harry had known what his family thought of him since he was four. When he was three, he was trying to understand why he heard two same voices, but telling different things. It took him a year to figure it out, and until he turned four, he didn't really speak._

„ _Ours! Give the names here, now!" The aunt had crazy with vengeance eyes, and Harry wondered why his host didn't care what was happening around him. Talk about detached..._

" _Noooo."_

" _NOW!"_

" _You seem to have forgotten that when our nephew arrives, we split the harvest, at the very least. Most of the times, I get the biggest piece of this heavenly cake anyway."_

" _I will contact our Father!"_

" _Right, and say what? My big bad brother doesn't share the toys?"_

" _I'll show you, you unholy_ _ **—**_

" _I accept everyone while you turn away your holy face from those who need you. I am there for the people, not you!"_

" _Dream on, Lucy."_

" _Don't call me LUCY!"_

" _You know, had I been anyone else, you two would have driven me insane." Harry's host muttered, slowly fixating the hands of the clock two minutes before the midnight, not paying attention to anyone and anything. Just as slowly, he raised the twirling sceptre, and pointed with it towards the clock._

" _But you're not someone else. You are you. I need to contact a few managers and see if we're ready to take in so many people." Aunt looked at Harry's host and at his nod, she disappeared in a swish of feathers, only to return a second later. "We're good!"_

" _You know why you never have issues with accommodation? You charge too high, and no one wants to come. The competition wins." The older man winked, his yellow eyes shining with glee._

" _And you are ready for this amount of people?" The aunt sneered, throwing invisible dust from the light, white shirt and trousers._

" _I am always ready. Unlike some, debates are not my thing. I say, they do. That's how it works back at home."_

" _Slave-driver."_

" _The one and only."_

 _The name-calling was again just over the corner, when Harry's nameless host straightened up and clicking his tongue, he jumped down from the cloud._

" _Harry!"_

Someone roared into his ear, and with a scream, Harry woke up on the floor, clad in another red curtain _ **—**_ surprise, surprise _ **—**_ to see a chubby kid squirm apologetically.

"I am sorry about it, Harry, but you wouldn't wake up. You'll be late for the classes if you don't get up now. And I am Neville." The boy was talking too fast and it was too bright, so Harry closed his eyes and opening them again, he got up. One part of the curtain was hanging too low, and with a practised movement _ **—**_ he had been doing it everyday since meeting wizards _ **—**_ he casually threw the material over his shoulder, and started walking towards the bathroom.

First, he'd clean up. And then, only then, he would go to Charms and then double Potions. It was not his fault this establishment did not have any wake-up services available and all electrical devices stopped working.

Harry paused at that thought, considering the possibility his and Hogwarts' cases were similar and had the same cause. It was something worth researching when he'd finally have the time.

No one bothered to wake him up, so how was he to blame for being late? He hoped Professor Flitwick wouldn't mind.

"Thanks for waking me up." Harry said, turning over his shoulder to face Neville Longbottom, and then added, after a few seconds, "You're a good kid, Neville. Toughen up and you'll be fine."And closed the door.

xxx

He had woken up today, excited to finally be able to talk and make friends with the famous Harry Potter.

It had been such a disappointment to get sorted into Hufflepuff, and there was nothing he could do when every time he saw a Gryffindor uniform, he wanted one as well. He envied them, no matter what the hat had said.

Ron sighed, his feather lying on his desk, and looked at Harry Potter, who had wet hair and who had been previously dragged in by Professor McGonagall, five minutes after the lesson had started.

Professor Flitwick accepted a simple apology from Harry with a smile, and allowed him to take an empty seat near Ron. He couldn't have been more grateful to the small Professor, who now had dried Harry's hair with a flick of his wand.

"Hi, I'm Ron Weasley."

His voice sounded too excited even to his own ears, and Ron winced at the cold, green eyes, that seemed to look deep into his very soul.

The few seconds Harry had been silent, Ron felt his heartbeat speed up, waiting, not understanding what he had done wrong.

The eyes blinked, and Harry looked away, concentrating on Professor Flitwick.

"Hi."

Ron smiled a relieved smile, and cast a casual glance at Harry's wand. It was beautiful, and so unlike his own _ **—**_ not even his own, his brother's unneeded wand _ **—**_ and Ron wished he had a wand like that.

He wished he was Harry Potter.

Ron held his breath as Harry turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, and for a second Ron's heart stopped at the thought that he had said it out loud, that Harry had heard his shameful wish. Shaking his head a bit, Harry looked away, concentrating on the spell, and Ron breathed out, thinking he had imagined that.

Five minutes later, his feather started to move, and thirty minutes later, it started to fly.

Ron turned with a smile on his face to look at Harry, and the smile froze at the enraged expression on the boy's face. Harry was staring at his unmoving feather, while everyone else's were in the air.

This boy near him had everything Ron wanted, and he could do nothing but feel bitter satisfaction when Potter couldn't do the spell.

The boy-who-lived to be outdone by Ronald Bilius Weasley.

Professor Flitwick was standing near them, on a levitated square platform, allowing him to look Harry in the face.

"Wingardium Leviosa. Say it while telling your magic what you want to do with the feather. Let's try again, Mister Potter."

Professor Flitwick had a very patient voice, and seemed like a great teacher. Maybe he would be great in Charms with the Professor's help? Maybe, he was born to be a Charms new guru everyone would respect? He had to be great in something, to prove himself that he wasn't just the sixth kid.

Harry seemed to shake his head, and Ron even saw him squeeze his eyes tightly for a second, before opening them, while pointing his beautiful wand at the feather.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Harry's voice was calm, and the feather didn't move.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Now Harry was close to screaming, but the feather didn't move even a bit.

"Mister Potter, calm down, and let's try another way." Professor Flitwick was looking at Harry with worried eyes, just like everyone in the room.

Maybe Potter was almost squib?

"God dammit, FLY!" Harry's scream still echoed in his head, but it wasn't what had his attention now. It was very cold suddenly, and Ron felt goosebumps run all over his skin. The feather was no longer on the table; it was flying high above, higher that any other feathers, moving left and right.

Professor Flitwick looked very happy, but had a concerned glint in his smart eyes, that were trained on the feather above.

Professor Flitwick congratulated Potter, and waved his wand, silently telling Harry's feather to fly down.

Two minutes later Professor Flitwick looked really annoyed, and the feather was still levitating in the air, not caring about what the Charms' Professor was trying to achieve.

The bell rang, letting them know that the Charms lesson had come to an end, and they were allowed to leave, while the small Professor was busy trying to get the feather down.

"Do you want to walk together to Potions?" Ron asked with a friendly smile, expecting Harry to be in a better mood now, after somehow making the feather fly, even if he wasn't as quick as Ron.

"I have Divination, I am not a Hufflepuff, Weasley."

Oh man, he had forgotten that they were in different houses, and only now he noticed his yellow uniform and Harry's red.

He loved red.

He wanted to be a Gryffindor. He wanted to be great. He wanted…

"Don't sit near me again if you want to live, Weasley." Potter interrupted his thoughts process, and smiled a sweet smile that did not match the icy words, moving out of the room and towards the corridor.

"But why?" He didn't really whine…

"Because you're an idiot."

WHAT?

"I am not an idiot!" Ron knew he had to keep his voice down, and regretted screaming only when a nasty face with a nasty smirk appeared from behind him.

The bleached hair said it all.

"Of course you're an idiot! You cannot be anything else, since you're a Weasel." Draco Malfoy was going to get into big trouble if he didn't control his nasty mouth.

Ron opened his mouth to tell Malfoy everything he thought about his Death Eater family, when Potter started laughing.

Malfoy seemed to be beaming with joy and satisfaction and Ron's face turned red from rage.

Potter and Malfoy were laughing at him.

"And you're a Death Eater baby! Your father should rot in Azkaban!"

"What did you say, Weasel?"

"I said _ **—**_

"Mister Weasley, Mister Malfoy, Mister Potter...Shouldn't you be on your way to separate classes by now?" The kind voice had a note of steel, and Ron turned around to look at Albus Dumbledore, who was standing behind them, his blue eyes serious but not angry.

Ron swallowed his humiliation, and watched as Professor Dumbledore _ **—**_ the legendary Headmaster _ **—**_ gently took Harry by his elbow and started leading him towards the Divination tower.

"Don't tell me you're going to sit there and watch," Potter's voice had zero respect as he had addressed the Headmaster, and Ron heard only "That's exactly what I will do, my boy." With envious eyes, Ron watched Potter and Headmaster disappear behind the stairs, and still fuming with rage, he went to the dungeons, where he would have to tolerate Malfoy during their first Potions class together. He, unlike some, had no Headmaster to escort him to the next classroom. For some reason, all the schedules had been redone, and Hufflepuff was paired with Slytherin, instead of Gryffindor. He wasn't stupid, and he knew it was done by the Headmaster so that Potter and Granger wouldn't meet too soon. Since Potter was a bastard, he'd take a better look at Hermione Granger.

No one calls Ronald Weasley an idiot and gets away with it.

xxx

His mood was really bad, and the smelly room didn't help at all.

The tower was decorated by an even crazier maniac than the one who had touched the Gryffindor common room, and Harry cringed as he noticed lavender pillows on the floors.

Who was the mad one here?

Ah...No more questions, Harry thought as he saw the Professor.

He would bet his Ferrari that this woman did not inhale lavender smoke only...It shouldn't really surprise him, though. If they had a Dark Lord running around the castle in a body of a garlic-smelling idiot, if they had people like Umbridge and other weirdoes, then why not hire a junkie as well?

The Headmaster was definitely senile.

"I am Professor Trelawney, and this is Divination."

And this, over there, in the corner, is my pot with weed, and in the cupboard I have LSD and other funny things that make me see things I later teach my students. My dear God, where did he end up, what kind of school was it?

Lucius Malfoy had been right when he had said that Dumbledore would bring them to the brink of destruction.

He didn't actually know if this Professor was really high, or just crazy, because he refused to look into her head, and focused on his neighbour instead.

Emmm…

Who the fuck was Crumple-Horned Snorkack?

"I'm Luna Lovegood." The girl said out of the blue, and smiled.

And the Dursleys had taken _him_ to the shrink...He was normal, compared to the rest of the school.

The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that he could read her mind, and it was beyond weird. Harry blinked a few times and looked over to the back of the room, where Dumbledore was sitting comfortably on at least twenty smelly, lavender pillows. He would bet his Lamborghini that the old fool was actually comfortable in this room, unlike Harry.

"Now take your cup, and look at the leaves. Tea leaves help to open your third eye."

And if you smoke my grass, you'll be like a spider, with eight eyes. Harry knew he didn't hold in the laugh, as both the mad hag and Dumbledore were watching him closely.

"Sorry, Professor. It must be the smoke in the air." He knew he was hiccuping, and for a second, Harry's disbelieving eyes saw Dumbledore smile a smile he wanted to hide. So, the Headmaster also found the Professor funny, or he knew about the weed.

Probably puffed himself every morning and evening, otherwise Harry couldn't explain Headmaster's weird behaviour and complete lack of care about who was teaching at the school.

One Dark Lord who was supposed to be dead, one ex-Death Eater and a possible huckster, one insane politician who needed a long stay at a muggle mental asylum, and now one junkie was added to the list.

They had only McGonagall, who was normal, and maybe rest...

Fun.

"Mister Potter, what do you see in the cup?"

"I see the tea leaves?" Duh...

"And what do they tell you?" Did she really ask that?

"I am afraid my leaves are not really trained to talk, but be my guest." Harry offered his cup to the Professor, noticing Dumbledore hiding a smile again.

Definitely puffed.

The weird Professor didn't seem to mind the way Harry talked, and reached to take his cup.

She was looking into the cup with strange eyes, and then looked at Harry, her eyes wide and scared.

Hmmm…

"Let's try again, Mister Potter." No, no, no! I want to know what you have seen there, even if you're high and crazy.

Harry focused and Professor's thoughts were open before him.

' _The mark of Saturn…'_ , followed by _'It cannot be..._ ' Harry pushed harder, going deeper into the woman's mind.

The fuck? There was a prophecy about him and Voldemort, and he didn't know? Voldemort probably also was in the dark about the full contents, as the memory was hidden even from the woman, deep in her unconsciousness.

And what about Saturn? Harry saw the symbol of the planet in the woman's mind, and he almost smacked his head as he now remembered where he had seen the sign from the dream. It was the symbol of a planet, resembling a four, and for some reason, the Professor was panicking now, her thoughts jumping chaotically.

Harry took the cup, and looked into it. Tea leaves...And some more tea leaves. He didn't see a shit.

"Please take the cup from your neighbour, and look into it." Trelawny's voice was shaky and nervous, as she glanced over at Albus Dumbledore, who wasn't chilling anymore, and looked at Harry with concern.

Harry swapped the cups with the looney blonde, and looked into it.

WOW...some more tea leaves...fantastic.

"Can you tell me what you see, Mister Potter?"

Why was the Professor now asking only him? There were a few enthusiastic students in the room, but Trelawny wanted to torture him.

He opened his mouth to say he saw tea leaves, like any normal person would, when the muster of the leaves changed and Harry's eyebrows rose without permission.

"What do you see, Harry?" It was Luna who asked him, and Harry blinked a few times, thinking over what he saw. He needed to leave this junkie room, where the air had too many drugs that made you see things that weren't real. However, Luna did not annoy him _ **—**_ unlike one idiot redhead he was going to murder one day _ **—**_ and Harry licked his lips. He'd humour her.

"Don't go to the waterfalls with your dad on the Christmas break, and don't come near the water while you're not in Hogwarts." He said it, awaiting laughter, but saw wide, blue eyes look at him with all the seriousness the girl possessed.

"I'll die if I go with daddy to the Niagara Falls?"

"Yep."

"How? Will I fall down?"

"Yep."

"And if I don't go?"

"Then you won't fall."

Luna Lovegood seemed to think something over, and Harry decided he needed to run away from this room, when the leaves changed again.

"Oh, and don't walk on the Hogwarts stairs, looking at the ceilings."

"I'll fall and die?"

"Yep."

"Oh. So, how do I not die?" Luna seemed to be taking everything he had said seriously, and Harry bit his lip, when the leaves shifted again.

"Mister Potter, could you look into this cup as well?" This woman would never let him alone, he was sure, and that meant Trelawny had to go.

He didn't care where, but this mad hag had to leave with her damned drugs before she drove him insane.

With a heavy sigh, Harry took the cup and looked at the new batch of leaves.

He wasn't even surprised when the leaves started to move. He was probably high already from the fumes.

In the cup, he saw Trelawny on the floor, crying in pain, and a man was towering above her. Harry would have never recognized the man, had it not been for the bone-white wand the man held in his right hand. Well, well, well...He seemed to have found a solution for his problem with Trelawny. Now here, Voldemort looked like a real Dark Lord, if you pushed aside the fact that he wasn't much older than Harry himself.

Well, he'd be an honest boy and tell the truth about what he had seen in the drug-induced hallucination.

"It's your cup, Professor," Harry said slowly, knowing Dumbledore was listening closely, and watched the woman nod. "You'll be killed in a very painful way, but before that, you'll be tortured."

She really believed his wild fantasy! Her face was white, as she asked the question Harry had hoped for.

"Do-do you know who will be my killer?"

No more chilling for Dumbledore, he needed the old man to get lost and deal with other things than stalking Harry _ **—**_ he could stalk Voldemort instead _ **—**_ , so he opened his mouth, and clicking his tongue, he answered.

"Voldemort."

So many horrified Oh's from everyone!

Ahahahaha…

xxx

He hated children, and now he vividly remembered why. Noisy, clumsy, stupid pests that couldn't seat their arses in time. Too bad no Crucio was allowed, otherwise he'd make even Snape envy the order in his classroom.

No one would dare to breathe if they knew who was standing before them. Well, one person would be breathing and laughing, but Potter wasn't just a kid.

He was his. Horcrux, not kid.

And apparently, Potter could somehow see the future, because getting to Trelawny was on his 'to do' list. The fact that he would succeed raised his mood a bit, along with the fact that Potter seemed to have issues with Charms. Flitwick shared the news immediately, just like Trelawny, and now everyone knew Potter couldn't cast a simple Wingardium Leviosa. He'd leave it like that, maybe adding to Potter's humiliation, however, there were two things that made him change his tactics.

First, even if it had been the Mudblood's protection, Potter had still managed to blast him into pieces, which meant he had to be powerful. If Potter turned out to be a loser, it wouldn't look good for Voldemort either. Defeated by a retard.

And the second thing that made him reconsider his approach, was the fact that Potter was his Horcrux, and therefore, he had to be great. He had a theory since he had known about the Killing Curse and the house-elf, and he was going to test it before the whole class.

Voldemort looked at the door one more time, to make sure Dumbledore wasn't here, like he had been at Divination, and he mentally patted Potter on the head for the brilliant plan on how to get rid of Dumbledore's immediate attention. The boy pushed the attention onto him, Lord Voldemort, and he wasn't very amused, however, he had to admit the boy was good.

He had Hufflepuff with Gryffindor, and Voldemort sighed in disappointment. He was looking forward to seeing Potter and Granger in the same room, but Dumbledore had other thoughts, as he had changed all the schedules after having a talk with Severus and Granger yesterday.

"Today we will try a few spells, students." He couldn't stammer all the time, he wasn't Quirrel, and with pleased eyes, Voldemort looked around the room, noticing he had the attention from everyone but Potter.

The idiot boy was drawing doodles, sitting in the first row, alone.

Probably no one wanted to get another funny premonition from Potter. He'd ask the boy about it later. Now, however…

"Take out your wands, focus, and imagine a shield appearing before your eyes. Mister Potter, would you come over for a demonstration?"

He knew Harry would prove to be difficult, but at the moment, the boy was cooperating, silently standing , twirling Dumbledore's old wand.

"I'll cast the spell for the attack, and you cast the spell to create a shield. The incantation is 'Protego.'" At Potter's nod, Voldemort raised Quirrell's wand and gritting his teeth, he cast the spell.

Here he was, the great Lord Voldemort, Master of Dark Arts, casting an idiotic spell on Harry Potter, instead of a well-placed Crucio, followed by Avada Kedavra.

" _Stupefy!"_

Potter's wand flew to the side as the boy made a back somersault and fell heavily onto his arse.

Hehehe, that will do for now.

"Mister Potter, the idea is to block the curse, not to fly with it." The snickering students seemed to really piss off Harry, who could read all their stupid thoughts.

"One more time," Quirrell said, and raised his wand again.

Potter was getting up, green eyes mad with rage, when he cast the spell again. _"Stupefy!"_

Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to live a bit without Crucio if he made Potter fly like that every morning and evening.

"Let's try with Mister Weasley, then." Yes, he also could read minds, and Weasley's was simply screaming at him with its pathetic joy at Potter's failure.

Potter slowly picked up his wand, and went to sit behind his desk, not saying a word, while Ronald Weasley was now making a spectacle.

" _Stupefy!"_

So what if he didn't warn the idiot? He wouldn't have blocked it anyway.

A small light shined on Weasley's wand as he screamed 'Protego', and then like Potter, he flew into the wall.

He could do it all day long. What was good about the school, was that you had many, many students.

"One point to Hufflepuff for the tiny light of the spell, Mister Weasley," Voldemort commented with a smile, not looking at Harry, when he heard a crack. He knew that sound, and with shocked eyes, Voldemort watched Potter break his wand in two pieces, and throw it onto the floor, like trash.

"Mister Potter, how do you think you'll be learning magic without a wand?" Voldemort asked, truly interested in the answer.

"This shit is broken anyway. Probably a bootleg copy if you ask me." So rude…

"One point from Gryffindor for cursing, Mister Potter." The way the boy looked at him… If he was a Dark Lord it didn't mean he approved cursing and cussing.

He knew it wasn't a bootleg copy since he had very unpleasant memories of that wand from when Dumbledore had held it. He knew it worked just fine.

At least it was nice to see Dumbledore's old wand in two pieces on the floor...Voldemort stopped his mocking inner monologue when he noticed the wand move on its own.

Silently, he watched how the tip of the wand crawled to the handle, and just attached itself. A second later, the wand was back in one piece and it started moving towards Potter's hand.

Not possible.

He'd have a new definition for impossible...Potterish. The wand was Potterish, and the boy was Potterish...which meant not normal and very weird.

He knew he wasn't the only one staring at Potter.

"Mister Potter, do you want to try again?" He asked the boy, to not think about the wand that had repaired itself, because that just did not happen with normal people and normal wands.

"Can I cast the attack spell?" And what if you, idiot boy, forget yourself, and cast the curse you know how to cast? He wasn't looking forward to an early Avada Kedavra.

"Of course, Mister Potter. Do you remember the incantation correctly?" Quirrell asked, question neutral for others, but meaningful for Harry, who nodded.

Voldemort raised his wand, prepared to throw Weasley onto the path of the curse if it turned out green in colour, and waited for Potter.

" _Stupefy!"_

" _Protego!"_

He had landed on his arse, previously imprinting his body into a wall. The hell?

Did he forget how to cast the spell? It was true that he had last used Protego when he had been at school himself, since no Dark Lord ran around with a first-year spell as defence.

"Again!" He demanded, as he rose to his feet.

" _Stupefy!"_

" _Protego!"_

He was on the floor again, and this time Voldemort knew it had nothing to do with his unused spell. Potter's magic was purely offensive, and it meant the boy would be able to pull off any attacking spell, but none from the defensive branch. That was why Potter had had problems with Charms. Had Flitwick told them to blow up the feather, Potter's would have exploded in a second, together with the half of the castle. Since levitation wasn't offensive, Potter couldn't do it.

He'd test this theory now.

"Mister Weasley, Mister Potter. Let's try a new game. For each cast spell, you'll get awarded ten points. If you fail, you lose ten points." Had it been Slytherin, he'd give more, but he'd help his house win anyway. Now, however, he was going to do Harry a favour and show the class what Potter had in him.

While Weasley was beaming with delusional pride, Harry was looking at him with curious eyes and a raised eyebrow.

He'd let Harry train on Weasley, but then he'd be fired, and he couldn't have that when the Philosopher's stone was so near. That's why he'd use the dummies.

Potter and Weasley were standing in one row, looking at the two dummies.

"Wands out." Voldemort said, as he thought over the spells he wanted to use. The problem with being a teaching Dark Lord was that most of his spells weren't allowed and it annoyed Voldemort that he could use only one percent of his spells knowledge.

The boys were ready, the class was enthralled, and it looked good at the moment.

"Each new spell will be harder to cast, more demanding on your magic, and it will be going up in school years. Seven spells in total. Ready?" He'd have Hufflepuff in minus by the end of the day, and it would have worried Voldemort, that Gryffindor would go into the lead, but he knew tomorrow Potter had double Potions with none other than Slytherins, and that meant Snape would do his best to make Hufflepuff and Gryffindor equal in minus.

"First spell. Stupefy." He knew he was repeating himself, but he couldn't really allow Weasley to fail everything, as then Sprout would eat his ears out, rambling about unfairness or something equally ridiculous.

" _Stupefy!"_ Weasley just couldn't wait to show off, or so he thought.

Weasley's wand tip had a sliver of light, and the dummy moved a bit.

Retard.

" _Stupefy!"_

He had to close his eyes with his sleeve when Potter had cast the spell, and the dummy hit the wall behind with such force that it exploded.

That is more like it.

"One point to Hufflepuff, ten to Gryffindor."

Now, Weasley would start his descend into the minus area with a simple "Bombarda."

" _Bombarda!"_

What did he say?

Idiot.

The dummy didn't even understand it was supposed to explode. With Potter, he knew it would be different.

" _Bombarda!"_

It was a good thing the dummies came in large shipments, as they'd run out of them by the end of today's lesson, as self-repair function did not work if all parts were blown into small pieces.

"Ten points to Gryffindor, minus ten from Hufflepuff. Do you want to sit down, Mister Weasley?" Of course not, the idiot believed he was Merlin reincarnated.

"I'd like to try more, Professor." Be my guest.

"Next spell. Diffindo."

Minus ten from Hufflepuff, and ten more to Gryffindor. Fourth year spell, and Potter had no issues, while Weasley was clearly out of his depth.

"Ferrus." That was an attacking spell that had qualities of a defence charm, and probably, Potter would fail.

" _Ferrus!"_ He wasn't really paying attention to Weasley's struggles, as he knew the boy wouldn't cast it even in a few years, but Harry really interested him.

" _Ferrus!"_ Would you look at that...So Potter could do defensive spells if they were intended to harm. Hmm...

Gryffindor was getting too many points, and there were three spells to go.

"Reparo." He knew it wasn't fair, since it wasn't an attacking spell and it was a first year spell, but who cared anyway? He'd take over Hogwarts soon, and then he'd make his own curriculum.

Weasley's dummy had nothing to repair, but the wand's tip did glow, and the spell kind of worked, making the idiot redhead almost salivate from joy.

Voldemort didn't know if Weasley would survive when Potter failed. He'd die from joy, probably.

" _Reparo!"_ No matter how many times Harry had said it, nothing happened. Hehehe…

"Ten points to Hufflepuff, minus ten from Gryffindor." Voldemort smiled at Harry's squinted eyes, and offered the next spell.

"Expulso." Borderline dark magic, extremely hard to cast, and very powerful if done rightfully.

Weasley was out of the question, but Harry…

" _Expulso!"_ The bright blue light shot out from Potter's wand and raced towards the dummy.

Harry blew up not only the dummy, but the wall as well, and Dumbledore wasn't amused. Voldemort hid back the insane snarl and smiled shyly, as Dumbledore walked through the hole in the wall, smiling at students.

Great…

"Professor Quirrell, what a wonderful idea. May I watch the end of the match?" And if I say no, will you go away?

"Of-of course, Headmaster." You wait, and I'll tear you apart. Blind, senile, old fool who allowed the Dark Lord to do whatever came to his mind, alone in the room full with students.

"Professor Quirrell, how about a new twist to the game, ah? Who casts the spell, will get one hundred points from me. Who doesn't, loses nothing." Dumbledore's voice was grating on his nerves, and the old fool's presence really annoyed him, but Voldemort had no choice but nod.

What did Dumbledore want? What was he doing here?

"Before I tell the incantation, please remember that casting this spell outside of this room will give you a one-way ticket to Azkaban," Dumbledore said, looking only at Potter.

?!

The senile old fool wanted Potter to cast the Killing Curse, and see for himself, if the boy was capable of casting it in his first lesson. Too bad for Potter, you either could cast the curse, or not, and if you could, it would always work. Many thought it had to do with intent, but as an expert, he'd say only the first one needed attention. All others go on automatic.

Potter was going to show Albus Dumbledore how well he could cast it and there was nothing he or Voldemort could do. Dumbledore was senile, but he was no fool. He had come to the same conclusion as Voldemort in regard to Harry's magic.

Weasley was pale and sweating, while Harry was looking at Voldemort for advice. The Dark Lord shook his head a bit, letting Potter know he had no choice but to cast it.

Dumbledore seemed to anticipate the result, as he had cast barrier spells around the student body, allowing only one magic free corridor for Potter to cast the curse. No one wanted to see Weasley's pathetic attempt.

"The most horrible curse in the wizarding world that automatically gives you a life sentence in Azkaban. Do you know what spell I am talking about?" Dumbledore seemed to have forgotten it was his class, and simply took over, shoving Quirrell to the side.

Most purebloods nodded, and Weasley squeaked, shaking his head, refusing to cast it.

"All right, Mister Weasley, please take a seat. Mister Potter, are you with us?" Well, of course Dumbledore wouldn't let Harry go when everything was done only to see Harry's curse.

"Do you need help with the incantation?" Tricky question. Potter should know the curse because he was famous for surviving it, and from the other side, it just said 'The Killing Curse' in the books. It did not say 'Avada Kedavra'. Come on, Potter, don't be stupid and say yes.

"Nope, I am good."

Idiot.

"All right then, Harry. Please, go ahead." Why had Dumbledore never taught him like that? Go ahead, Tom, and cast a Killing Curse, and I'll give you a lemon drop with one hundred house points…

Voldemort's eyes were shining as he watched Harry raise his wand, and with held breath he observed Dumbledore's face.

Potter was going to show Dumbledore how well he could cast Avada Kedavra, and he, Lord Voldemort, was going to watch.

Something about the way Potter held the wand told him that with Potter, you never know what to expect. The wand's angle was too deep, and the grip on the wand fit another Unforgivable, but not the Killing Curse.

He wouldn't, would he? Was Potter stupid on purpose, or it was the plan? Harry's concentrated eyes told Voldemort that Potter did not understand that he was supposed to cast Avada Kedavra.

Potter had thought about the other curse.

He wouldn't, right?

Salazar's basilisk! Harry was truly a nutjob.

" _Crucio!"_

Looking at the stable, shining red light that went out of Potter's wand and into both dummies, Voldemort licked his lips.

He knew only one Cruciatus that looked better and was more powerful.

His own, and he had practised it for over fifty years.

Oh, Potter, Potter...What are you?

xxx

 _a/n Thank you for the comments! I'll definitely try to fit in the Diary and Harry's ramblings, so thanks for the idea, Hweianime! Should be amusing to write :)_


	12. All aboard

_Beta: Julie. fjad_

Chapter Twelve

 **All aboard**

—

His cup with hot chocolate would have been cold long time ago, had it not been for the charms on it. The cup stood on a large table, near a neat stack of papers, and something that looked like shimmering material lay nearby.

Old, wrinkled fingers were slowly combing through the material, their owner deep in thoughts.

Sad, blue eyes were dull as they traced the path of his fingers and the shimmering material of the cloak on his table.

How could everything have gone so wrong? Why had he made such a mistake?

Albus Dumbledore shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut from the heavy burden of guilt that was suffocating him, allowing only one small tear to roll down the wrinkled face.

 _What have I done?_

All the sacrifices, all those who gave their lives, it was all for nothing. He had had such hopes, even when reality knocked and tore his shiny, pink bubble into pieces, he still believed.

Only later, after seeing Harry's effortless Cruciatus on an inanimate object _—_ which wasn't possible according to all books, since the object had to be alive for the curse to work _—_ Albus' bubble had stopped existing, and he had accepted the truth.

After witnessing what Harry had done to Miss Granger, after seeing the memory with his own eyes, he couldn't ignore it anymore. He couldn't ignore hundreds of dead people who died as Harry's 1st September congratulation, and the boy himself was fine with it. As the day went on, his resolve to not give up on Harry had started crumbling down, and now, there was nothing left of it.

Harry was a monster.

And it was too late. He was too late. He should have listened to Severus, and interfered a long time ago, minimizing the damaging effects of Jim Moriarty's influence. But he hadn't.

When Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor, he had been ecstatic, believing it to be a good thing. Only today he had finally understood what the Sorting Hat had meant when it had explained that Harry Potter could not have been sorted into Slytherin because he lacked one quality that was very important for Slytherin, and the only house that Harry fit into, was Gryffindor.

He had wanted to believe it was the lack of ambition, but only today, after observing Harry closely, he understood.

He wished now Harry had been sorted into Slytherin, because Gryffindor was much, much worse.

Harry had no sense of self preservation, he did not care about his life, and that was why he couldn't be Slytherin. Tom, Lucius, Severus _—_ they all cared about themselves, even if fanatical and insane, they did not want to die. Harry, on the other hand, did not care at all.

Harry was a ticking bomb which would destroy not only everyone around the boy, but the boy himself as well, and Harry was fine with it.

Their boy-who-lived was a fanatic, and Albus did not see a way out of this situation anymore. Before him lay a letter from Mycroft Holmes, and for the first time since getting it, Albus Dumbledore had to finally accept the fact that he agreed with Mycroft Holmes.

Harry Potter could turn out to be a much bigger problem than Voldemort could ever be, and that was why, with a heavy heart, he was going to go along with Mycroft's only plan, and allow Harry's interrogation. He could not allow Harry to grow up the way he was now. He had no hope anymore.

"There is always hope, Albus Dumbledore. You just have to believe."

Blinking a few times, Albus focused his gaze on the person who was now sitting on a top shelf. Wide, blue eyes traced the lines on the face of a woman, who had a very interesting face that was framed by dirty-blonde, edge-cut hair, and then he looked at her white trousers and a white shirt, before noticing her bare feet. He would have said something already, had it not been for enormous, pure white feather wings behind her back.

Merlin.

"Oh, please. Merlin was a human, while I am definitely not." The woman jumped down from the shelf, a blur of feathers later, she was sitting directly in front of shocked Albus Dumbledore, leaning forward onto his desk, allowing to look her in the eyes, which were pure blue in colour, and shined with power.

"Forgive my _—_ "

"Incompetence? You, wizards, do spells and rituals that involve either demonic or angelic powers, and you still refuse to accept that we exist. Stupid." The woman's voice was melodic, and her face was kind and open, even when she ruthlessly mocked him and their kind.

"I am afraid _—_ "

"You're always afraid because you don't believe. The only thing that separates you from over seven billion muggles is your ability to cast magic. That aside, you're all the same. Stupid." Harry must have brought him to the brink of insanity, because he wasn't sitting in his office, talking to an angel.

"I am not just an angel." The woman smiled a warm smile that somehow froze his insides, and Albus swallowed.

"May I ask _—_ "

"Who I am?" She could read his thoughts as if he were a simple muggle, and Albus did not know what to say or do, so he nodded. He stopped believing in hell and heaven after Ariana had died.

The woman smiled, her hair falling to the side and covering her shining eyes, before getting up from the chair, and walking to the middle of the room, where her wings spread open and Albus felt the angelic aura.

Oh my god.

"That is more like it, Albus Dumbledore," the woman said before introducing herself. "I am Gabriel."

His old heart would give up now, and his cold body would be found in the morning with a heart attack. The archangel…Gabriel had come for him?

"Oh, no worries, your time has not come yet, Albus. I like your name, by the way," Gabriel noted with a small smile, as she inspected the frozen portraits.

Dumbledore looked at Fawkes, who was frozen as well, and then gazed at the clock, where both hands were frozen at midnight.

Was he crazy, like Severus thought, or was it real?

"And how do you know what is crazy and what is real? Reality can be crazier than any madness." This was a real angel, and Albus just couldn't grasp it with his numb mind.

"Ah, humans. You have so little faith left, that I have to prove that I am who I say I am. Don't you think it's ridiculous and kind of humiliating? I don't have to prove anything, it's you who have to prove that you're worthy of my attention!" Towards the end Gabriel's voice rose a few octaves, and Albus was afraid to even breathe.

"I apologize," he said, licking his dry lips.

An archangel.

With his list of achievements, he had expected a demon instead.

Gabriel was looking at him with raised eyebrows, and Albus lowered his gaze. He wasn't worthy to be in her presence for many reasons.

"Oh, please, like we care what you do with your…stick," Gabriel sneered at him, and for the first time in long years, Albus Dumbledore blushed.

"You should be more worried that you're about to sign a death warrant for an eleven year old child, instead of worrying about being gay." He felt like a child himself, listening to his mother, who wasn't holding back. "You may have wanted to kill many people, and you have dabbled in Dark Magic with your _friend—_ ," Gabriel paused at the word and smirked, making his blush intensify, " _—_ and you aren't the purest, but you do belong with us, upstairs."

He was going to be allowed into heaven when he died?

"Unless, of course, you sign that paper, and kill a child. We do frown upon it, even if your motivation behind such actions isn't hostile. Killing is killing, Albus Dumbledore, especially if you want to murder a child that we protect." His heart was in his throat, as piercing blue eyes were now glued to his face.

"You protect Harry?" Oh, please, let it be true. He didn't want to murder Harry. He really didn't.

"Well, of course we do. Harry is very important, and not only to you." Gabriel's eyes had a glint in them that Albus did not feel comfortable with, but then again, it was an angel before him, and he had no right to doubt her words.

"I _—_ I thought _—_ "

"Yes, yes, I am fully aware of what you have been thinking here, praying to us, without even knowing it. But I can always hear your prayers, I just don't answer them that often." The angel was smiling at him, and the smile melted the ice around his heart. He had been wrong. Thank Merlin!

At Gabriel's disappearing smile, Albus reworded his thanks, and got an amused smile in return.

"Alright, Albus. Listen to me carefully, and do not interrupt." Gabriel waited for Dumbledore's nod, and continued, while pointing with one huge feather towards the Invisibility cloak on his desk. "That cloak has to be returned to its rightful owner." Albus opened his mouth to say that he couldn't allow Harry to have an invisibility cloak that he suspected was a Deathly Hallow when the boy had the Elder wand already, and closed it upon seeing the angry expression on Gabriel's face.

"Yes, it is a Deathly Hallow. And the wand is a Deathly Hallow. Just like the stone, that is missing." He had been right, and the Hallows were real. Was Gabriel trying to say that Harry was to become the Master of Death?

"There is no such thing as the Master of Death. Death has no master, and has only our Father to answer to. The wand, the cloak and the stone belong to us, and have to be returned."

There was only one answer. He knew Harry was too strange to be human, and now, he knew why.

"Harry is Death?" Albus asked, trying not to pay attention to the pain in his heart that was increasing.

A rich laughter filled the room, and Albus' wide eyes were looking at the extremely amused angel.

Apparently, not.

"No, Harry is not Death. But you're right that he's special. Help him find the stone, and give him his cloak back, and he might surprise you." The tinkling laughter was still heard in her words, but Gabriel was serious.

Harry wasn't evil?

"NO!" Gabriel was standing near him now, her one hand on his shoulder, pulsating with light. "While Harry is not the best example for the rest, he's not evil, and he not a demon. He's a troubled teenager." Her words were going directly into his heart, which had stopped hurting when Gabriel had touched him.

An angel.

"Is Harry an angel?" What if…

"Also no. He's…" Gabriel paused, looking for the correct word, before tilting her head to the side, "Neutral would be the best word."

"Will Harry help the world?" He asked, still numb from the shock, and watched Gabriel's face with her eyes closed, lips stretched in a fond smile.

"Oh, he will, Albus. He will." Thank you, thank you! It felt like something heavy fell from his shoulders, and he looked the angel in the eyes.

"Thank you." He said the words, really meaning them, and Gabriel opened her blue eyes and smiled again, before removing her hand and flying into the air, towards the light that now shone from the ceiling.

Gabriel seemed to pause as she thought something over, and then she turned to look at Albus again.

"I would take a much closer look at Professor Quirrell, if I were you, Albus Dumbledore."

What? Why? He had noticed the strange aura around the stammering professor, but he couldn't point his finger as to why.

Before Gabriel left, he quickly got up from his chair, and asked the question. "Please tell me why."

A small smirk later, she replied and disappeared in a swish of feathers, her voice ringing in his head.

"The number one on the hell's future guests list went further than any before him, and when I say that even Lucifer frowns upon the idiot's actions, then it means that the man is beyond stupid."

The only one who could have pissed off both heaven and hell, was the one who kept escaping death, and it all clicked in Albus Dumbledore's mind, as the portraits woke up, Fawkes cried, and the clock's large hand moved forward.

Tom.

Xxx

The chair was uncomfortable _—_ the back was too short and it hurt his spine, the seat wasn't as soft as he liked, and he would have wiggled his numb arse, had he not been a Malfoy.

Was this torture on purpose?

He knew it wasn't, simply because the Minister was a tasteless moron and with a hidden sigh, Lucius secretly rolled his eyes, not paying attention to the idiot in the room. He hated the new chairs.

Draco was in Slytherin, separated from Potter, who had somehow managed to get himself into Gryffindor _—_ he had lost one million on the bet to Zabini who had somehow predicted Gryffindor _—_ and from what Draco wrote, Potter behaved with his son, and even, according to his stupid child, was now his friend.

As if…

"Minister Fudge, would you sign the papers, sir?" Fudge had a new secretary, and Lucius' eyes were glued to the short skirt the pretty woman was wearing. The chairs were crap, but the woman...Who knew the old wanker had taste?

Fudge looked at him briefly, and Lucius almost snickered as he imagined Fudge hearing his inner monologue. He had so many pleasant things to share…

The stack of papers was signed and returned to the leggy secretary, who left with a smile, directed at Lucius.

He was a Malfoy, he was filthy rich and incredibly handsome…

Fudge looked at him again, and Lucius raised his eyebrow. Read faster, you moron! I have a meeting with my tailor in an hour.

"Lucius, I have been thinking about how to improve our situation after Mister Potter graced us with his presence," Fudge started his ramblings in his monotone voice, and Lucius silently groaned. He did not need an idiot to share his moronic thoughts on the boy who was Lucius' new associate.

"And may I ask what you have decided?" Nothing probably, because this idiot could not make decisions himself, and Lucius wondered, for the millionth time, how the hell Fudge had become a Minister for Magic.

Dobby was more qualified than Fudge.

"I have decided we need to work closer with the muggle authorities."

YOU DECIDED WHAT?!

"I beg your pardon, Cornelius?" They needed not only a new Headmaster, but a new Minister as well. Potter, kill him!

Fudge smiled shyly, and got up from his chair, moving around the room. Lucius always hated when he did that.

"As the Minister of Magic, it is I who should be negotiating with the muggle government, not Dumbledore." Well, it was true, however, unlike Dumbledore who was senile, Fudge was additionally a moron. Mycroft Holmes would eat Fudge as a snack and not even notice. "And I thought you could help me, considering your vast connections in the muggle world."

Fudge had learned about his business from his father, who had shared the secret. Fudge was an idiot, but he was a pureblood.

So, Fudge wanted him to do Foreign Affairs for the Ministry…Delicious.

"If you put it that way, Cornelius, I think it's a great idea." Lucius got up from his chair to shake Fudge's sweaty hand, and smiled at his excited face.

Idiot.

You have no idea what I am going to do, Cornelius Fudge. Soon, with Potter's help, he, Lucius Malfoy, would be the Minister of Magic, and it would be game over for everyone against him.

Lucius closed the door behind him with a bright smile, and winking at the redhead secretary, he went happily home, calling Cornelius Fudge many nasty names.

Xxx

"Sir, I have the documents for your signature." A tall, red haired woman walked into the office which Lucius Malfoy had just left, and moved towards the desk behind which Fudge sat, putting the papers onto the desk.

"Anna, why so many papers?" Cornelius asked with a frown, and took one paper into his hand.

"Sir, you have requested all the papers to be overlooked one more time, and we have found a very nice investment project in the muggle world. If you approve, Sir." The woman's voice was meek and quiet, and she lowered her eyes as Cornelius Fudge looked at her.

"You want me to approve an investment of over five billion Galleons into muggle wars?!" At the high notes, Anna closed her eyes, afraid, and opened them only when Fudge got up from the seat and moved towards the large mirror, correcting his tie.

"I apologi _—_

"Shove your apologies you know where. Five billion? FIVE? Who do you take me for?" Fudge corrected his tie one more time, and looked at his full reflection in the mirror.

"Sir…" The woman whispered, eyes cast down.

"Make it fifty."

Anna smiled and nodded, standing now behind him. "Yes, Master."

Fudge smiled at his reflection, his eyes shining yellow, with strange, vertical pupils. "And Anna, bring in a vacuum cleaner with you when you return."

"A vacuum cleaner, Sir?" The red haired woman asked in disbelief, only to cry in pain when light shone from the ceiling.

"Too many pigeons."

Xxx

 _Two hours earlier_

Cornelius Fudge was smoking a cigar, thinking about his upcoming vacation with high positioned friends, sitting in his comfortable ministerial chair, enjoying the evening.

He was successful and he was smart. He had a sharp mind, even if some did not agree.

"Sharp like a hammer."

Cornelius jumped up in his chair and choked on the smoke, coughing so hard he couldn't breathe. Through the cough, he saw a middle-aged man, dressed in a long, black cloak, approach him from the shadowed corner. His coughing stopped the scream that wanted to escape him, when Cornelius saw the enormous, black wings behind the man, that folded and disappeared, as the man came closer, his eerie, yellow eyes shining.

Cornelius could not stop the cough, and pulled his wand out.

"First learn how to breathe, and then pull your idiotic stick on me." The man had terrifying aura around him and everything smelled like sulphur, letting Cornelius know who had come to him.

With tears in his eyes, Fudge fell onto the floor, still staring in horror at the man who owned his soul.

It was him. The Devil was here.

"Maybe you're not such an idiot as you look like?" The man tsked and smiled. "Yes, Cornelius Fudge, it's time to pay for your tickets to the best seats in this life. I am here for your soul that you have given me in exchange for the success. Time is up, Cornelius." The man snapped his fingers, and Fudge started to hear the screams from somewhere below.

NO, NO, NO!

"YES! Welcome to hell, Fudge." The man leaned over his fallen figure and touched his forehead with his cold finger. "Enjoy your stay."

Cornelius Fudge stopped coughing when a tall figure, dressed in grey clothes appeared near the Devil, the scythe telling him all he needed to know, and then he was standing near the Devil and Death, looking at his body.

He was dead.

"And going to hell," the Devil added with a wink, causing the figure with the scythe to snort in amusement before touching Cornelius with a gloved hand.

His soul saw his body rise, eyes empty, when the Devil disappeared. The last thing Cornelius Fudge saw was his own body, standing straight, with eerie, yellow eyes shining in the dark. The next second he felt the ground disappear, and then he fell into the fire and smoke of hell.

"Couldn't you choose a better-looking meat suit, Lucifer?" Death asked, looking at the man with amusement when they were finally alone.

"Ugly, isn't it?" Lucifer, who was wearing Cornelius Fudge's body as a suit, remarked when he looked himself over in the mirror.

"At least you're not a flower." Lucifer did not laugh at the words, and with a snort, he looked at the grey figure. "That is why you're my favourite cousin. But a flower, really?"

"Don't get me started on him, because I have many things to do rather than discuss what my crazy child has been doing for thousands of years. Had I not been Death, he would have driven me crazy too."

"He could drive anyone crazy. Look at Gabriel, for example. Seriously though, a flower?"

"And a butterfly. And many other weird things…" The grey-clad figure of a woman shook her head as Lucifer raised his eyebrows.

"I am aware of the butterfly, but the flower is really disturbing to think of, even for me."

"How is that you're aware of the butterfly? I don't remember sharing this information."

"What do you mean, how do I know? Everyone knows, and Gabriel cannot even think about that time without destroying something."

"Ah, you're talking about the first time."

"I take it there was a second, then?"

"What do you want, Lucifer? You could have taken this man's soul without my assistance, so why did you ask me to come?" The woman's scythe was shining in the evening sun, illuminating the two figures.

"Well, how about I missed you?"

"Right."

"Oh, come on. It's going to be so much fun! I am here, Gabriel is here, and…"

"And I won't tell you anything about the Hallows, or the main stone. That's not how it works."

"Come on, dear, don't spoil all the fun."

"Nope."

"Just a little bit?"

"Lucifer, there is a reason why you, nor Gabriel, cannot find the Hallows." The woman in grey clothes let out a small laugh, before continuing. "And you definitely won't find the main stone."

"Maybe you want to share about the Seven Seals?"

"Like Gabriel says, dream on, cousin."

"We'll see about that, cousin. We'll see." The Devil smiled at his reflection, and the woman with the shining scythe disappeared.

"Anna!" A figure of a tall, red haired woman appeared from the ground and bowed.

"It's time to remodel this pathetic place." The woman bowed, and rose to leave, when Lucifer spoke again. "Our Lucius Abraxas Malfoy is coming for a visit."

The woman smiled before leaving quietly, and the Devil went to sit in his new chair.

Oh, it was so nice to be in charge.

Xxx

He was going to murder that brat, no matter what Dumbledore had said, or what he had promised Lily.

He wanted to take out his wand and do the things he had previously regretted with his very soul.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

"Not fair!"

"And detention for two weeks, Potter!"

"Hem-hem."

Severus squeezed his wand so hard he believed it would crack, but unlike Potter's wand, he knew his wouldn't repair itself.

Don't murder her. Don't murder him. Think of Lily.

"Professor Snape, may I ask why you removed points from Mister Potter when he answered all your questions correctly?" Who the hell asked you? Shut your trap, professor.

"Madam Umbridge," Severus started only to be stopped by another 'hem-hem'. Gritting his teeth, and doing everything in his power to not look into Potter's laughing green eyes that had zero resemblance with Lily's, at least now. Severus corrected the title, and tried again. It was the tenth interruption from this...thing.

"Professor Umbridge, would you be so kind and leave the teaching of Potions to those who are qualified to do so?" And get the hell out of my classroom before I remember what I have been doing as a Death Eater.

"No respect for the Ministry." Potter's mocking remark was the last drop for Severus' patience, especially when Umbridge started smiling like a shark, nodding in approval.

When had Potter found the time to wreak havoc? Considering Draco Malfoy was sitting next to Potter, surrounded by purebloods, Potter had found the time for his Slytherins as well.

Where was the Dark Lord when you needed him?

"Detention for a month, Mister Potter!"

"Hem-hem."

What could he say? That Potter was cheating by reading Granger's mind? He had already barked at the girl to shut up, even if she hadn't even opened her mouth, but there was nothing he could do to stop Potter and his bizarre magic.

Severus took a deep breath, noticing the white-faced students for the first time in the last ten minutes he had spent arguing with Potter and his toad-bodyguard.

Right, he knew he was pretty terrifying when he was pissed, but unfortunately, it had zero effect on Potter.

"Open your books on page four and read the material before you start brewing the potion." He needed to switch his attention, because otherwise there would be a blood bath here soon.

Potter and Malfoy were brewing their potion, and Granger kept silently glaring at the boy-who-lived-to-drive-him-insane. Granger was seated with Neville Longbottom, and Severus did not know how he would survive this year. Only he and Minerva had Gryffindor with Slytherin, as Dumbledore did not trust the others with both insane Potter and bloodthirsty Granger in the same room. Hermione Granger was a very strong girl, and she had Severus' respect after he had seen with his own eyes how Potter had behaved in the muggle world. His father had been a saint compared to the devil's spawn.

Umbridge was sitting in the corner, silently supervising them all, and Severus internally groaned.

Twenty minutes had gone by, and nothing had happened, and for a second, Severus almost relaxed, before his eyes found Longbottom, Granger and Potter.

Longbottom had just screwed up the potion, and had it been any other potion, it would have exploded, but not this one. The most harmless potion possible, against pimples and acne.

"Whoa, Harry, not so fast!" At Draco's cry, Severus looked away from Longbottom's disaster to find Potter throwing chopped, not crushed beetles into the cauldron.

To say the potion was ruined was an understatement, and with pleased eyes, Severus came closer to Draco and Potter.

"Mister Potter, may I ask what you think you're doing?"

"Cooking."

Draco was his godson, but Potter had somehow managed to influence the blond child more than Severus, as Draco was now smiling.

"And what are you cooking?"

His inner voice already pronounced the "C" and the "R", and "U" was behind the corner.

He didn't really want to know, but he did…Potter made him think and act irrationally.

"A potion."

Smartass.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" Quirrell may have helped Gryffindor to go into the lead, but that was yesterday. Today the red house was already in the minus, all thanks to one cheating, lying brat.

"Hem-hem."

Fucking die!

His inner voice had now added another "C", and an "I" was nearby. All was missing was an "O".

"Please do share with the class what potion you are cooking, Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy?"

Potter's green eyes were clear, even behind the pair of glasses the boy was wearing, and they were _innocent_. The potion was green in colour, and Severus's eyes widened when he came closer and smelled it.

"Against the pimples, sir?"

Shut up, Draco.

Granger was white from rage, as she kept staring at Potter, who was busy with a spoon, twirling the potion clock-wise.

With disbelieving eyes, Severus leaned closer to the cauldron, and looked into the substance.

If you mix bread and butter, you won't get a juicy steak no matter what you do, but with Potter, logic did not work.

Before him, Potter had brewed in just a few minutes a seriously dangerous potion that worked like dynamite, and the weirdest part, was that Potter had no ingredients for such potion, and normally, it required a week to brew.

Dumbledore had been correct. Whatever Potter touched, turned into a catastrophe, and Severus quickly used his wand to vanish the explosives from Potter's and Malfoy's cauldron. Dumbledore was insane, but far from stupid.

The boy did not seem to understand what he had just had in his cauldron, because he was glaring at him with his large, green eyes.

"All out! And you, Mister Potter, stay behind."

"I'll be sure to talk to Minister Fudge about the quality of education at Hogwarts, Professor Snape." Umbridge spoke in such a voice that he wanted to take out his wand and really kill her, but all he could do was nod, so that the toad would get the hell out of his classroom, and leave him with Potter alone.

"Be my guest, Professor." Severus sneered at her enraged eyes and slammed the door shut, with only Potter, who was sitting innocently behind his desk, and him in the room.

"Alright, Potter. Enough is enough."

It was a huge risk, but then again, he had no more options left. Fuck Dumbledore and his idiotic plans, because Potter was uncontrollable, and he was only eleven.

It was a low blow, and he could lose his job, but the stakes were much higher now.

The boy brought destruction to everywhere he went, and Severus smiled a bitter smile. He had hoped it wouldn't be necessary.

He had hoped Harry would see the reasoning, but it looked like Potter could understand power only, just like the Dark Lord.

No wonder the Dark Lord had attacked Potter and not Longbottom, because the boy and his previous Master shared a lot of similarities.

One very big difference between them was that the Dark Lord was gifted in all branches of magic, defensive included. Potter, on the other hand, had issues with Wingardium Leviosa, while casting a perfect Cruciatus.

Legilimency was offensive, and Potter excelled brilliantly.

And Occlumency was purely defensive, with no possibility to use it for an attack. Two branches, two spells, and Severus was sure Potter's magic was the same when it came to Mind Arts. Dumbledore wouldn't go for it because of possible consequences, but Severus had had enough.

The boy wouldn't be able to pull off Occlumency, and unfortunately for Potter, Severus could do both Occlumency and Legilimency.

Raising his wand, Severus smiled a sad, bitter smile, looking the boy in the eyes.

Truth time, Potter.

" _Legilimency!"_

xxx

 _a/n Early Merry Christmas! :)\_

 _Thank you for your awesome reviews. It's so great to know someone enjoys what you have written._

 _If you have seen Constantine the movie, then Tilda Swinton is Gabriel. Loved her character and her brilliance!_

 _Dear Guest, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I have no idea who now owns Sherlock Holmes, but I do know it's not me. The same with Harry Potter, not mine. However, the plot is mine, and is not allowed to simply copy it and post under another name. I am not talking about you, I am talking about one person who copy-pasted my other story under her/his name on another website. The only change- beta removed as well :). So, while I agree that legally, I probably don't own anything, I am the author of this story, and I bring it to life, so to speak_ _. Not somebody else. Something like free authorship is what I, just like every other fanfiction author, have deserved, don't you agree?_

 _Thank you for reading and please review._


	13. Behind green eyes

_Beta: Julie. fjad_

—

Chapter Thirteen

 **Behind green eyes**

" _Legilimens!"_

The pull of the spell was expected, and a second later Severus opened his eyes to see Harry Potter's mind.

His heart was squeezed painfully by an invisible hand, making him hold his hand over his chest, gritting his teeth in pure agony that surpassed even the Dark Lord's Cruciatus.

It felt like eternity before the pain disappeared, and Severus was able to take a hungry gulp of air, trying to compose himself, and promised to do a health check, but not now.

Immediately after opening his eyes, Severus had to close them at what he was seeing. Hallucinations weren't a very good sign. Or was he dead already?

After a minute, having composed himself, Severus opened his eyes again and together with the view, he received the sound as well, its suddenness making him put his palms to his ears.

He was half-crouching in a busy street with enormous glass and metal buildings that shined under the golden sun. The buildings were in the form of orbs and ovals, with no corners present, with designs he had seen as a child in the fantasy books section at the London Library.

Under his fingertips he could feel the hard, polished stone that was very pleasant to the touch. Everything was extremely clean and the air was so fresh that Severus couldn't get enough of it. He thought he could smell the water nearby, and the warm breeze confirmed his guess. Everywhere around him were people, and most of them had large, transparent sunglasses on, and they seemed totally consumed by whatever they were seeing on those small screens.

He wasn't a retard, and he was a half-blood.

He had an iPod.

He liked Bach and Mozart, and he had a lot of time for music while brewing potions.

Not that he had company.

It took him a second to comprehend that even though the people didn't seem to pay him any attention, no one was running into him either. The people, dressed in weird fashion, stepped aside, letting him know that it was a controlled memory instead of being a hallucination. He was in a real memory that could be controlled by its owner, allowing to add insignificant events that allowed the visitor's mind to experience the memory. It wasn't very possible that a boy who was eleven years old could have such Mind control, as even the Dark Lord nor Dumbledore, weren't capable of such Mind Arts. It was possible to modify memories, but not like this.

Severus took a deep breath through his nose and breathed in the warm notes of cinnamon and coffee from the nearby café, several perfumes reaching his large nose and the Potion Master started counting the ingredients he recognized. He looked around, standing up, and straightened his robes and cloak.

There were no cars on the road, and that made Severus pause. He didn't know why he looked up, but he did, and what he saw wasn't possible. Small and big, cars and round objects were flying in air, manoeuvring between the buildings.

Like in old muggle movies about future.

It was madness, but it was a real memory, and Severus did not understand what was happening to his mind. Where was Potter himself and how could the boy possess such memories? What the hell was going on?!

"One coffee and a bizzle-wuzzle for Severus Snape!"

Severus heard the female voice announce from the nearby café, and he could only follow his legs as he entered quickly through the glass doors. Everything about the way things looked did not fit any historical criteria he was aware about—both muggle and wizarding—, and Severus wasn't surprised to see the interior. Everything was made of bubbles, transparent airy bubbles that formed the large seats and stable tables. Every booth had shinning, thin, golden layers of magic above the table, its golden colours indicating the Privacy wards, meaning no one would be able to overhear and see something they shouldn't.

"I am Severus Snape."

He was locked somewhere in Potter's head and he couldn't return—he had tried, twice already—but he couldn't. He needed to find Potter if he wanted to leave.

"Do you wish any chucki-chaki sause with your tesu-misu bizzle-wuzzle?

What did she just ask?

"No."

"Would you like any mizzle-wizzle?"

…

"No."

"Would you like to try our new happy drinks? One drink for only two credits."

"Where is the person who ordered for me?" Severus asked, trying not to go crazy before it was time.

It wasn't real. It was a memory that allowed him to experience everything, and Severus tried not to panic thinking of who was awaiting for him.

"Cabin eleven. Your order has been just delivered. Thank you for eating with us!"

Severus approached the cabin, and saw the person sitting there only when he sat himself fully behind the table, onto the bubble-seat.

Potter.

He knew it was Harry and not James, even though before him sat a close-copy of James Potter as he last remembered him.

Adult.

"What is this, Potter? How do you do it?" Severus just had to ask when a small, bluish square appeared before his eyes, onto his plate. And then another small square, now brown in colour, appeared in the tiny glass gup.

"Your tesu-misu bizzle-wuzzle and coffee," Potter smiled, while happily grabbing his own glass with a pink cube in it and almost purring, swallowed it. "Why didn't you order mizzle-wizzle? I suggest trying the strawberry with peppermint and lime." Potter smiled a happy smile and leaned back, allowing Severus to look at him closely.

Potter was like James, somewhere in his twenties but without glasses, and had a strange, shimmering cloak around his shoulders, covering him fully. The cloak was fastened with a brooch that had seven stones, three of which looked cracked. On the table, next to Potter's right hand, lay something that looked like a sceptre and as his eyes focused on the thing, he felt panic and terror while his inner instinct cried at him to run away from this thing as far as possible.

"What are you?" Severus knew it sounded insane, but it was true. Potter was no human.

"I am inevitable. I am…me." Potter smiled again, and even though the smile was sincere, the green eyes weren't laughing.

"Where are we?" Severus was a scientist, and the cube, which looked like it had coffee in it, really interested him.

"Better than a shot of espresso. Mind-blowing, try it." Potter paused and squinted his green eyes. "We are in a café."

Funny.

Severus reached towards the cube, and cautiously touched it with his tongue, and then swallowed it.

A rush of pleasure, adrenaline and caffeine ran through his body, and Severus blinked at the smirking Potter.

"This food technology has not been discovered this time yet, yet, but since I know my uncle is a very busy man, I will have to buy a few stocks of the company which first offers such experience with food in the near future. Interesting, isn't it?"

"What are you?" Severus repeated again, looking at the three cracked stones on the brooch; they somehow bothered him.

"I am a memory. To be more exact, I am Harry's true memory, true essence. Does such an answer satisfy you, Severus Snape?" Potter looked bored and snapped his fingers, ordering a new "mizzle-wizzle strawberry whipped with peppermint and lime", and Severus truly did not understand what Potter was.

Memory of Harry's true essence? Was Harry a reincarnation of some sort?

"Not really, but you could say so as well. I typically try to avoid getting born as a human, and definitely as a wizard, so you can imagine my surprise when I was born in my true form, which means the countdown had to begin. I had to be born, and as soon as I took my first gulp of air, I was awake, observing my younger copy, with the same habits and thought processes I have." Potter stopped only when his order arrived, and Severus could only stare, his thoughts chaotic, as he tried to comprehend what he was hearing.

Countdown? What countdown?

"Forgive my chattiness, it's just I am so glad you came over. You are my most favourite guest. Do you know why?" Potter's eyes were bright green, and the sceptre on the table started to pulsate with magic.

"Please do enlighten me." He was getting concerned over that pulsating stick with a large ball and ring around it.

"Because you're my only guest. In forever." Potter's smile was insane. "You're honestly the first and only person to enter my mind. Would it scare you if I said that even my aunt and uncle, who are way more powerful than you are, never ever dare to enter my mind?"

Potter wasn't talking about Petunia or Vernon Dursley. And it did scare him.

"So, welcome! And thank you, by the way." The man showed to the brooch with the stones, and tapped on one cracked stone. "That's yours."

"And the other two?" He didn't know why he needed to know it, but he did. He'd think things over later, when he'd be alone.

"Killed by an enemy and the other one killed by a friend," Potter explain nonchalantly, as if he were talking about the weather.

"Killed?" Did he hear right?

"Yes, killed. The fact that I didn't die doesn't mean it doesn't count as killing."

Could it get any worse?

"Jim Moriarty tried to kill you too, is that what you're saying?" Potter had only one friend and that definitely wasn't Draco Malfoy.

The man in the cloak—he just honestly couldn't call him Harry—laughed while throwing his head back, and Severus did not know what to do, so he waited.

"Trying would be the wrong word, I think. Let me show you, for trying the bizzle-wuzzle. Experiencing a memory is much more pleasant than just viewing it, isn't it, Severus?"

He wanted to say "Professor Snape", but something held him back. Maybe it was the power behind the green eyes that seemed to glow around the iris, or maybe it was his curiosity. He needed to know everything, so anything Potter offered to show him, was useful.

"All right, Potter." Severus snapped his fingers, just like Potter had done, and ordered into the magical opening, allowing the servers to not leave their stations.

"But first, one coffee please."

Potter's smile was genuine as he looked at Severus, before also snapping his fingers and ordering a strawberry mizzle-wizzle.

Xxx

They stood at the entrance to a majestic house, and the warm winds told Severus it was somewhere Mediterranean, somewhere in Spain maybe.

"You have good senses, Severus Snape. You impress me more and more." Potter's calm remark, as if he hadn't read Severus' mind, acutely reminded him once more about the mystery that Potter was if even his Occlumency shields seemed to fail.

"We are in Spain where Harry lived with Jim Moriarty when he was eight. Tonight is Christmas." If Potter hadn't said it, he would never think of it. There were no signs of Christmas anywhere he looked.

The memory felt so real, and Severus looked around, noticing the security and cameras everywhere.

With Potter at his side, he started walking towards the entrance, slowly looking around.

"You bastard!"

Severus started walking faster at the scream, and soon he was standing at the opened doors, looking at the memory of an eight year old Potter and Jim Moriarty around the small table.

On the table lay a square carton, with four different colours. Both Harry and Moriarty had a dice each, and when Severus stopped closer, he read the name of the game.

' _Mensch, ärgere Dich nicht.'_

Severus raised his eyebrows at the game which the two people in the room were playing. 'Don't get angry'…He'd never heard of such a game. Not that he played a lot...

"Muggle. Highly entertaining, especially when playing with unstable people." Potter's smile was wicked as he stepped closer to his younger self, and took the dice to roll.

"If I get a six, I can roll again without giving my turn away." Potter explained to Severus, while the Potions master kept looking at the younger boy, who seemed to be egging Moriarty.

"Oh, daddy is going to lose again. Daddy cooool," Harry sang at Moriarty who looked eerily calm, and prepared to roll the dice. From what Severus understood, Potter was playing for both green and black, while Moriarty was stuck with Gryffindorkish red and yellow colours.

"Harry, the chances that you win are under one percent. I have three of my pieces in the house, and one is one step away from entering the safety zone. While you, Junior, have only one piece in the house with the rest locked. I win, baby boy."

Severus watched Potter lift the dice, blow on it, and then rolled.

Six.

Potter took the dice again, and rolled.

Six.

Jim Moriarty's posture changed from mocking and relaxed to one of a berserk cat, who kept staring at the carton.

One more six was followed by another, and Severus had a very nasty feeling while looking at Moriarty's face.

He wanted to tell Harry to stop, to not piss off a madman, but the boy was busy rolling the sixes.

Twenty four rolls later, the situation on the board looked different, and Severus leaned closer to observe Harry's green piece which had approached Moriarty's red, and was breathing down its neck, while the rest were already in the safe houses.

Moriarty and the Dark Lord should make a club together—Don't Bet Against Potter.

"If I roll a three, you'll be sent home, daddy cool. Who is the loser now?" Harry was almost jumping in his seat from excitement, twirling the dice between his fingers, playing with it, and not paying attention to the alarmingly calm Jim Moriarty.

"I strongly suggest not rolling the three if you know what's good for you, HJ."

No mocking, no humour, no joking. Jim Moriarty was a psychopath.

Don't roll a three, don't, Potter!

The dice was thrown into the air, and Severus watched together with Harry and Moriarty as the dice landed, and rolled to the side.

The adult-Potter was snickering quietly in the corner, and Severus could only wait, as the dice showed the number.

Three.

"Bye, bye, daddy. Have a safe trip home," Harry's highly happy face was turned towards his green piece which had kicked the red one from the carton, and sent it to the home base.

A second after Harry had sent the red figure back home, a gun appeared in Moriarty's hand and Severus could only scream in horror when the first shot was followed by two more.

Harry was on the floor now, three bullets in his head, dead, and Severus could feel unthinkable terror squeeze his heart.

"Harry!"

"I have awesome taste in friends, don't you think so?" The adult Potter was standing near him, smirking, and Severus finally understood what he was seeing.

"Oh, Junior, Junior! FUCK!" Moriarty roared, quickly landing near Harry's dead body, and rocking him.

"Come on, Harry James Junior, wake up and let's have some more fun. I PROMISE I WON'T SHOOT YOU!" Moriarty was definitely regretting pulling the trigger, and Severus would have shaken his head if he could. He was too shocked to even breathe.

This is what happens when you deal with psychopaths.

"You won the Uno, and then Poker, and now this stupid game…I overreacted, Junior! You cannot die now, come on!"

The two more people who had entered the room were silently waiting for an order, and Severus recognized one of them from Granger's memory, the one who had hit her teeth out. Or would in the future…

Potter was fine in Granger's memory, and he was in the castle, meaning…

"Sir, the boy is dead." Severus sneered at the idiotic statement from the smaller guard, and only looked away at one more shot. The bodyguard fell quickly and quietly, with a bullet between his eyes, just like Harry.

"Do you think me STUPID?!" Moriarty roared at the dead bodyguard before changing his tone to polite. "Thanks, I can see that myself." Severus watched as the man allowed Harry's head to drop onto the floor with a smack, and kicked his still smoking gun with his foot.

"Morons…" Moriarty was now walking in circles around Harry's body, his hand squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"How are you still alive?" Severus turned to the adult-Potter, to see an almost detached expression on his calm face.

"Magic." The answer was stupid, and they both knew it, but at least Severus wasn't smiling like an idiot.

"Sir, should I…help your friend?" The bigger bodyguard—Buzz, if he remembered correctly—, asked quietly, trying to not piss off Moriarty even more.

"DAMN IT!" Moriarty had his hands on his head, and he seemed stressed. "Take him away, Buzz."

The bodyguard nodded respectfully and approached Harry's bloodied figure on the floor.

Severus looked closely at Harry when the guard bent down to pick his body up, and he almost screamed again.

The boy's eyes were open and they were watching the bodyguard. A high-pitched scream later, the bodyguard dashed towards the wall on the other side of the room, completely ignoring Jim Moriarty's surprised and alert face.

"AAAAARGH!" Merlin, the big bad man sounded like a girl, screaming uncontrollably while looking at Harry's now moving form.

Moriarty stood still, mouth opened a bit, eyes round, as he quietly continued watching Harry, who was standing now.

This is what shock looks like.

The holes in the boy's forehead were still there, and Severus had to gather himself so not to vomit, when Potter simply stuck his finger into his skull, and scratched the first bullet out, allowing it to fall onto the floor, accompanied by pitiful screams from the terrified bodyguard. He wasn't the only one who didn't understand why the bullets hadn't gone back out through Harry's skull and had gotten stuck instead. Moriarty's eyes were glued to the bloodied bullet on the floor.

Two more bullets followed, and Harry was now standing before them, with no traces left on his face.

"That sucked."

Moriarty seemed to have overcome the shock, and was now slowly approaching Harry.

"HJ?"

"You are one nasty loser, you know that?"

Severus wanted to find out more, but the adult-Potter was already opening the exit from the memory, pulling Severus with him.

"Are you very angry, Harry?" Severus was already in between the memories, and the last thing he could see and hear was Harry's smiling face.

"Are you going to allow me to drive your car now?"

xxx

Severus now stood on the cliff, observing the impossibly beautiful city, trying not to lose his wits.

There were so many sparkling objects in the air, flying in strict lines that from the distance, it looked like silver and golden butterflies were flying around a beautiful crystal flower which was the city. The gates from the port were in the form of two enormous obelisks followed by a sphinx-like creature made of crystals. The ships on the azure waves were slowly swinging, enjoying the warm sun and beautiful weather.

This was not their world.

"Your world? You think the world is yours?" Potter asked suddenly, and Severus squeezed his teeth in rage, as the man allowed himself to comment on his thoughts.

"Whose else's? Whom if not humans should our planet belong to?" Severus replied with a raised eyebrow to be met with large, green eyes.

Just like Lily's.

"I see."

Potter was immortal.

And the boy was very well aware of that fact.

"Yes, Harry knows he cannot be killed by standard practice, so to speak, but he doesn't know why." Potter was now looking at him as if he was a very interesting puzzle.

"And you do?"

"Of course."

"And the boy's weird magic is your doing as well?" Severus asked, looking at Potter's cloak that had a thick, but airy layer of shimmering dust all over the material. The long sleeves were spacey, but did not bother the owner. It pooled towards the floor, cascading down.

"My magic is different than any other, but believe me when I say that I can cast protective charms if I need to." So it was a touchy object for Potter...Interesting.

"Then why doesn't your younger self do it?"

"He will learn how to balance his magic, but he needs time. And a good teacher, considering someone is going to get fired very soon."

Potter would tell Dumbledore that Severus had entered his mind, and the old fool would kick him out for daring to touch their Boy Wonder.

Potter's laugh was sudden and full of real entertainment. "Not you, stupid. You'll be around for much, much longer than you would have ever anticipated."

What was the boy saying? And who did he just call stupid?

"Did you just call me stupid?" Severus sneered at the surprised face and crossed his hands over his chest.

Potter scratched his head with the eerily-feeling sceptre before gracing him with an answer.

"My aunt likes that word. It's her description of the current human race."

"Why are you using the term 'current'?" Severus looked closely at the sceptre to see the outer ring twirl. It reminded him of Saturn on a stick.

"You have many things to mull over for today, Severus. Visit me soon, and I'll let you try the spa treatment they have here." Potter now put the hood of his cloak up, and turned to leave.

"Who are you?"

He wouldn't get an easy answer, he knew that, but still, he asked.

"I am me."

Wonderful.

The next second Severus was kicked out from the memory and out of Potter's mind and found himself in his body, standing before Harry Potter, in his Potions room.

"Are you alright, Professor Snape? You spaced out, sort of…" This Potter had normal eyes that did not shine, and Severus saw the boy had no memory of what his older self had just done.

"Get out, Potter."

"Pfff…" The boy huffed, gathering his books and went towards the door.

"Wish you a pleasant day, Professor Snape."

"Out."

With a bang, the door closed, and Severus fell onto his stool.

Xxx

He was sweaty and nervous, all his senses telling him he had to find the missing object.

How was it possible? No one had seen anyone on the property, and the magical locks on the stables weren't just for fun, but they weren't broken.

Everything was as it was supposed to be.

Only one very drugged-out muggle was missing, and Lucius did not want to know how Potter would react to that.

Somehow, with all the wards and spells, elves and snakes, Petunia Dursley had vanished from the stables, and Lucius could not understand how.

Like a pathetic Muggle, Lucius Malfoy ran around their French manor, his wand out, looking for the missing muggle, and not noticing his wife silently following him.

Xxx

"Shit!"

She had never heard Lucius swear, and Narcissa froze when another tirade followed shortly.

"Fucking muggles!"

Well…When she had gone after Lucius, she thought she'd catch him with his new admirer, and instead, she found her husband panicking while running around the house.

Lucius' blond hair looked dishevelled, and Narcissa almost stepped out of her hiding place to offer her support.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" Lucius roared into the empty room, making Narcissa wonder if they needed to stop by at St. Mungo's .

Lucius took out a small golden coin out of his pocket, and pressed in the middle. Three minutes had gone by, and Narcissa was still waiting, along with the pissed off Lucius.

The coin in Lucius' hand turned red, and Narcissa heard the voice of the person who Lucius was now urgently calling.

"What's up, Malfoy?"

It was a child's voice! Narcissa leaned a bit closer, the Invisibility spell allowing the necessary freedom of movement.

"One of your dogs is missing." Lucius said to the coin, and Narcissa raised her eyebrows. Lucius had been looking for a dog all this time?

"Whoa…Which one?" It was definitely a child.

"The horse."

What was missing? The dog or the horse? Was Lucius a vet now? Did her husband lose all their money in cards and she didn't know anything?

"Was she doped?"

Was Lucius making business with a child that somehow was connected to horse-races?

"She was more than doped. All the magical locks are still there, intact, but the horse is missing."

Oh, Lucius…A winning horse, maybe?

"I don't know how you plan on ruling Magical Britain if you can't manage one pack of dogs…" The voice from the coin muttered, making Narcissa's eyes widen.

Rule Magical Britain?

Ohhh….

"You won't touch Draco because of it?" The question sobered her day-dreaming, and Narcissa frowned.

"Come now, Malfoy. Your mini-me is just fine. Find my dog before it barks on the wrong tree." And with that, the coin's light was off.

"Little shit," Lucius muttered, while putting away the coin.

Narcissa stood for a second before turning around and quietly Apparating away.

If Lucius wanted to run after dogs or horses, it was his business.

Minister of Magic…

Xxx

He was walking towards his office, thinking about the Philosopher's stone, when Dumbledore appeared before him.

"He-headmaster."

Old, senile wanker.

"Professor Quirrell, just the person I was looking for." He needed to get his wand out now, as he recognized the hard glint in the blue eyes he hated so much.

He knew...

"He-headmaster?" He needed to draw his wand out now!

"I am sorry, Professor Quirrell. I really am. You're fired, Tom." Dumbledore knew, and wasn't in the mood for merciful chit-chat, like always.

"Is that so, Dumbledore?"

Voldemort had Quirrell's wand tight in his hand and it was pointed at Dumbledore's raised wand.

"Typically, I would approach such situation with caution and observe a bit, but we live in drastic times, and drastic times demand drastic measures." Dumbledore was dead serious and solemn, and Voldemort prepared to throw a Killing Curse at the senile, old fool, when he heard one from Dumbledore.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

The green light hit him so suddenly, that he didn't even have the time to understand it. Dumbledore had never done anything like that.

Panic, terror and incredibility seized his senses, as Death was nearby again.

He still had Horcruxes nearby.

The pull on his soul was to be expected, and Voldemort prepared to fly towards Potter to use the Horcrux, when his soul was simply taken from Quirrell's body and the next second he was between the pages, in his diary Horcrux that was held by an ugly woman who resembled a horse with a neck of giraffe, and she was smiling at him pleasantly, her blue eyes shining with light that made him feel very uncomfortable, and it said a lot, considering he was now in a book.

It looked like the idiot Malfoy had lost his Horcrux to this ugly creature.

"Pff, Mister Handsome. Before calling names, try looking into the mirror." The horse-faced woman sneered at the diary and tsked, closing the cover and making Voldemort swallow his comeback.

"Stupid."

xxx

 _Several hours earlier_

"Tam, taram, taram, tam-tam, tam-tam…."

A beautiful house with large horse stables rose from the fog, and the woman continued her approach, singing a tune.

"Tam, taram, taram, tam-tam, tam-taaaam…"

The doors to the stables were locked with magical locks and spells of highest category, and the woman bent down a bit, looking at the symbols, her short, edge-cut hair falling into her eyes.

"What are you doing here, Gabriel?"

The woman turned around, glaring at the newcomer, before straightening up and pushing the door open, not bothered by any magical spells.

"I do what I must, brother. I do what is right," Gabriel said while entering the stables, and upon seeing three drugged-out junkies, she sneered.

"You do not do what is right. You do what you think is right. And that is a major difference." The man wasn't old and he wasn't young, with sharp, but kind brown eyes and light-brown hair.

"Why don't you return to Heaven, Michael, and leave me be? You tire me with your babbling." Gabriel was now standing between the three muggles, deep in thought.

"Stop interfering, sister. It's not right!" The man cried out when Gabriel reached towards Petunia Dursley and lifted her into the air with one hand.

" _This_ is not right!" Gabriel cried at the other archangel, while shaking Petunia's body like a leaf. "This is not right, Michael! How many chances are humans supposed to get? Look what they have done to the world, to the planet, and to themselves. LOOK AT THEM!"

"Gabriel, they are human, they make mistakes."

"All of them?" Gabriel's eyes were hard and cold blue in colour as she looked over Petunia's body. "Not only have they no faith left, they have decided that they rule over their lives. They think they are the most powerful species in the world. THEY ARE NOTHING BUT WORMS WHO FORGOT THEIR PLACE!"

The man with light-brown hair was frowning, his eyes glaring at his sister. "You just sounded like Lucifer."

"You know, Michael, our dear fallen brother may be all messed up in the head, and a complete and utter bastard, but he is not an idiot. When he's not delusional, that is." Gabriel now shook Petunia's body before touching her forehead with index finger.

"Wake up, human."

Petunia opened her eyes and looked at the tall woman with shining blue eyes.

"More. I need moooore," Petunia moaned from pain that started to take over her body from the lack of drugs in her system.

"I'll take your pain away if you allow me inside of your body. Say 'yes' , and there will be no more pain." The man with brown hair shook his head and looked away in disgust at the sweet tone and gentle face.

"Ye-yes."

A second later Gabriel was gone and Petunia Dursley stood up straight, her eyes shining blue.

"Gabriel, I am begging you to reconsider. You cannot be allying with Lucifer, not now!" Michael was now standing directly in front of Petunia, looking her in the eyes.

"I am not Lucifer's ally! I am not anything like him! I do this for the humans, not against them."

"You think helping our nephew can be considered helping humanity?" Gabriel raised her eyebrows at the incredibility heard in Michael's question.

"Have you heard the sirens today, Michael?" Gabriel asked, and smirked at the pursed lips of the other angel.

"You have. And you know what it means, don't you, brother?"

"Another seal has been broken."

"Indeed. But you don't sound very happy." Petunia Dursley snapped her fingers and a second later she was dressed in the best wizarding clothes.

"I don't belong to the fanclub of our nephew. Unlike some…" Michael muttered slowly, looking over the muggle who now had Gabriel instead of her own soul, and looked away.

"Three seals are broken already, only four are left. Do you really believe that this time our nephew will walk away from his duties? I don't think so." Gabriel smiled a happy smile and disappeared with a swish of feathers, only to be followed by another swish of feathers as Michael disappeared as well.

The stable remained untouched, and no one was around to notice that one muggle was now missing.

xxx

They were on a brink of war, and no matter where he looked, he only saw chaos. Somehow, everything was falling apart…

"Mycroft, there has to be a pattern," Sherlock Holmes was tired and anxious, walking in circles around Mycroft's desk.

"There is a pattern. If something has to go wrong, it will." He was really worried by the news from all over the world, where new wars started in a second, and it seemed control was the wrong word to use. Everything was spiralling out of control.

"Somehow, thousands of people won Jackpots all over the world, thereby almost bankrupting casinos everywhere." Sherlock looked at his brother and took out a cigarette, lighting it, before continuing. "Three countries in the Middle East have somehow received weapons and money in one day, and now they are shooting each other. Who supplied them with the weapons, and so quickly?"

They both knew the answer, and it bothered Mycroft the most that he couldn't do much against magic.

"North Korea received three billion pounds from only one shady deal. I don't want to predict what they will do tomorrow. You know what is going to happen soon, unless we find out a way to balance everything?" Mycroft asked his younger brother, who nodded in return.

"Apocalypse."

Mycroft Holmes closed his eyes and also nodded.

"Too right, little brother, too right."

xxx

 _a/n Haven't written in a long time, as had first my diploma to deal with, and then somehow had no inspiration to write and read anything fanfiction related. Weird, you know? I hope you liked the chapter, I tried. I'll return to the weird city in one more chapter where I'll tell you which city it is :) Anyway, please let me know. Thank you for the great reviews, guys. You're awesome, and I really appreciate your feedback. I love smart readers :) Till later!_


	14. Bureaucracy

_Beta: Julie. fjad_

Chapter Fourteen

 **Bureaucracy**

—

 _The last time he closed his eyes, he had been at Hogwarts, in his bed, falling asleep._

 _That meant that what he was seeing was a dream, Severus concluded, and he relaxed a bit._

 _He was sitting in a funny looking, Potter-inspired armchair, which was a close relative of a big bubble. He had a bathrobe on, and Severus couldn't say what material it was made of—it felt very soft to the touch, cool to the body, but warming as well, and it was so silky that he barely felt it. His feet were in a bubble-like basin with warm water and some sort of emulsion inside, and the flows and streams felt like heaven. He had had a foot massage before—it was an excellent way to relax one's mind-and it faded in comparison to what he was experiencing now._

 _The heavenly massage went on, and Severus closed his eyes. If he was dreaming of having his feet massaged in the most enjoyable way, then why not relax and actually enjoy it._

" _I especially like how the pinkie-toe tickles in the shishi-sashishi solution with a drop of wickle-tickle." The voice cut through the beautiful music he was listening to, and Severus was alert in a second._

 _Potter, adult, dressed in the same cloak as before, was sitting in the nearby bubble-chair, his feet also in the massage-bubble, his green eyes shining with wickedness as he winked at the stone-faced Severus._

" _Get the hell out of my dream, Potter. I didn't invite you over." Severus sneered, and he tried to pull his naked feet from the massage-bubble, only to find them stuck._

" _I paid twenty-three credits for both of us, and until the procedure is over, you don't go anywhere, Severus." Potter replied with an easy, careless smile, enjoying Severus' confusion as to what was going on, and continued, "No one ever invites me over, to be honest with you, so I don't take offence anymore. I do have a lot of fan groups and admirers, but as soon as I really decide to come over, they all disappoint- screaming and running away instead of the promised warm welcome is all I ever get."_

 _He didn't really like the picture of the person Potter was drawing for him. Somehow, Severus believed the man, and not only because the sceptre was making every hair on his body stand, even though Severus had a feeling this thing wasn't even activated._

" _I really like your conclusions."_

 _Damn it all! It was his dream, so how could Potter be reading his mind?_

 _This was his dream and he could control it, since it was his mind, so why was Potter here? He did think all evening about the mystery that was Harry Potter, but to have the adult version he remembered from the memory stalk him in his own dreams…_

" _This is my dream."_

" _Yes." The idiot even nodded._

" _Then how are you here?" Severus tried not to panic when he couldn't wake up. He could always wake up when he needed to, thanks to his proficiency in the Mind Arts, but now…_

 _Now he was stuck._

" _Don't worry so much, Severus. I promise all your worrying won't change anything anyway, so why worry? I fail to understand how your hair is still black, unless you colour it…" Potter stopped at Severus' angry face, before continuing in a softer voice, talking to him as if Severus were mentally unstable. "I am where I want to be. And since you so nicely had visited me earlier, you therefore created a special bond between our minds, allowing me to pop over anytime. Cool, right?"_

" _Get out." His dignity was the only thing that stopped him from trying to drag his feet out of the damned bubble that kept on massaging._

" _Nope."_

" _What the hell are you? Where are we?" Deciding to use the time to get to know the enemy— he meant Potter-the-memory—Severus leaned back into his bubble._

" _In your dream." The bastard actually laughed._

" _This is not a memory because time and culture like this do not exist, and therefore it's all in your head, Potter. You're crazy." Severus managed to not moan even when the intensity of the massage changed and now all the spots that were being massaged by water were purely pleasurable and released tension._

" _I prefer 'eccentric' to crazy, but I assure you, Severus, that I am real and this is a real memory I am allowing you to experience while you're simply sleeping. Shouldn't you be more thankful?" Potter's snort towards the end made Severus grit his teeth, but he was thankful. The massage was heavenly._

" _If you refuse to tell me what you are, then at least tell me what your goals are."_

" _Oh…Goals…" Potter's eerie sceptre was again used as a scratcher, and even through the distance between them Severus could feel its terrifying aura. "I don't have any." And smiled like the idiot he was._

" _None?" Seriously? Potter did not make any sense._

" _I am old, Severus. I have seen it all and, additionally, I cannot have any goals because of what I am." Potter smiled at Severus' expression of surprise at the honest statement, and continued. "I have a very weird collection of family members, but we're not related in a sense you would understand." Potter spaced out, like an old man telling his story. "I was created with only one purpose, and it is up to me what I do in between the times when I have to do my job. I tried this, I tried that…I am lazy and I try to postpone my duties, but sometimes I just can't ignore the call anymore, and I appear. It is then up to you, humans, if I stay or if I go. I am very fair, but I really don't have any objectives." Potter seemed detached, as if talking about someone other than himself. "I just don't give a shit, Severus, about anything. You like me already?"_

 _That was more like it. It seemed that Harry had inherited the attitude of 'I don't give a shit' from his older memory. Severus still could not tell what exactly Potter had done to his mind to create such a powerful memory-presence, but whatever it was, it had to be possible to explain with logic._

" _If you say it's a true memory, why have I never heard of such a culture and time?" He needed to think of what Potter had told him. His beliefs were clashing with the new reality, and Severus wasn't sure he understood what was going on in the world anymore._

" _Who said you haven't?"_

 _That just did not make any sense._

" _So I have?"_

" _Definitely. While I don't work often, when I do, I prefer to have my progress written down, at least by someone, somewhere."_

 _He did not know such places as this one, no matter what Potter was babbling about._

" _Next time I'll show you something very interesting, but now you can wake up and go listen to Albus Dumbledore's lies about one very interesting person, who suddenly up and left his teaching position without any logical reasoning. I'll gladly listen to your recall of the conversation later on."_

 _What was Potter talking about?_

" _How powerful are you?" Severus asked, not taking away his eyes from the sceptre. "Can you defeat the Dark Lord?"_

 _Potter's eyes were large and seemed truly surprised before the boy doubled over and roared with laughter, tears rolling down the cheeks._

 _Severus did not know what caused such a reaction—or, he did know, Potter was simply crazy—and Severus continued watching the laughing figure of the man in the shimmering cloak._

" _Oh ye, oh ye…" Potter stopped laughing, still hiccupping though, and then, suddenly clear, serious green eyes were trained on Severus._

 _The shine in his eyes was getting brighter and brighter, and the outer ring of the sceptre shone a blinding white, before Potter smiled a tiny smile and put the sceptre back into his robes._

" _Oi, my friend, I assure you, Lord Voldemort is not your biggest concern anymore." Potter's voice was dead serious and for the first time since meeting adult-Potter, Severus felt unease at the sight of those green eyes._

" _And who is the biggest threat then?"_

 _He knew the answer even before Potter's lips opened and the boy breathed out one word, before kicking Severus out of the memory and his own dream._

" _Me."_

 _Xxx_

He needed a break.

He needed just one day to breathe out, but it seemed that he'd only rest when he'd be dead.

Albus closed his tired eyes for a second before composing himself, and putting a polite smile on his wrinkled face, he walked into the room.

He had just told his staff and students about Professor Quirrell's departure due to personal reasons, not mentioning the fact that Lord Voldemort had been running around the castle all this time.

He had to go to many disgusting lengths because of Tom, and getting rid of Professor Quirrell's body was one of them. Tom left Quirrell no chance since possessing him, and it had to be done.

He was a murderer and he would have to live with it for the rest of his life, but he just couldn't allow Tom to influence Harry in any way or form. The boy was way too unstable and unpredictable as it was without Tom's assistance.

He had seen Tom's soul leave Quirrell's body and his theory about Horcruxes was confirmed.

At least he had won some time.

After breakfast, which was weird in its own right, he had received an urgent call to the Ministry of Magic.

He had expected to see Cornelius Fudge alone, but it seemed his assumptions had been wrong. Opposite of Cornelius sat a woman, dressed better than even Narcissa Malfoy, with brown hair put together with a shining clasp. Albus paused for a second before greeting the always sweaty Cornelius, and again looked at the woman, who had now turned around.

He was losing his mind, as it was not possible. Albus had always had a great memory, and now his memory was telling him that something was very wrong.

"Petunia?!"

Xxx

His old, wrinkled hand was holding the papers, and his tired, blue eyes were looking over it, but his mind refused to believe it.

Petunia Dursley was a witch and after being rejected by Hogwarts _—_ by himself _—_ she had later attended Salem School of Magic in the States, and was now a qualified Professor to teach magic.

She had personally taken Harry from him, or so was written on the paper, and had a memory to prove it. Vernon was a banker and was away on business trips most of the times, and their son, Dudley, was attending a private tutor from the Magically Gifted school.

He was dreaming or he had gone insane, like Severus had thought.

Petunia Dursley had had zero magic in her when he had seen her the last time, but now, even Albus had to agree that the woman was magical, and not only because of the wand in her hand. She gave off the normal magical aura, instead of the standard, dull, muggle one.

Not possible! This was not Petunia Dursley, but it would come up during the investigation _—_ that this imposter would want to initiate, no doubt _—_ when she'd be tested with Veritaserum, and blood-related spells. He was Chief Warlock and he would not let the imposter go through with whatever plan she had.

"We," Fudge paused after an awkward smile, "the British Ministry of Magic, have to start an investigation as to why this wonderful lady wasn't accepted to Hogwarts, and why she was declared muggle."

Dumbledore's hard eyes were looking over Petunia's face as he tried to understand what was happening.

"Lily had always been the favourite, but it was my magical right to learn magic when I was eleven, and not ten years later. Professor Dumbledore, as you can see, I am no muggle." Petunia's voice was sure and soft at the same time, and she looked so honest...

"Where have you been, Petunia? How did you allow someone like Jim Moriarty to come close to Harry?" This definitely was not Petunia Dursley. The problem was that he was the only one who knew it. He and Severus. All others would buy this story with open mouths and wide eyes.

"Moriarty?" Petunia looked at him with eyes that weren't lying and Albus did not know what to believe anymore. "You mean Mr. Richard Brook? Harry's baby-sitter?"

This was not Petunia Dursley, and Moriarty was no Mr. Brook.

"Dumbledore, maybe you and Mrs. Dursley could speak in private before we have to start the official hearings?" Fudge seemed nervous as he collected papers from his desk. "I have a meeting with Mr. Holmes in ten minutes and I don't want to be late."

"Cornelius, may I suggest you rearrange your schedule so we can go together?" He was not going to allow someone as simple-minded as Fudge to deal with sharks like Mycroft or Sherlock Holmes. Fudge would sell his Ministry and not even notice it. It didn't bother him that Fudge, who was weaker both mentally and magically, held a higher position than himself. Albus did not want to be Minister of Magic.

"But Albus, you have so many things to do. I am the Minister of Magic and I'll do just fine." Fudge took his ugly hat and smiled at Petunia.

"Mrs. Dursley, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope your troubles will be solved soon." Dumbledore did not like the feeling that he was the only one in the room who was missing something, especially when Petunia smiled back at Fudge. "The pleasure is all mine, Minister Fudge. I hope your meeting will go as you have planned."

He did not like their smiles, even if there was nothing sinister behind them. He just felt weird now.

Fudge shook his hand and left through the portkey, leaving him with Petunia Dursley who wasn't a muggle anymore.

The world had turned upside down, and he had been too busy to even notice it.

Xxx

His head was going to explode.

Not from the million thoughts and complicated deduction processes, but because of utter and sheer madness _—_ to put it politely _—_ he had been listening to the last half an hour.

According to this Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, Harry Potter had an official guardian, who had been previously labelled Muggle, when instead she turned out to be magical and very influential. The same aunt had confirmed that Richard Brook was Richard Brook and not some Moriarty guy, and since wizards gave Magical Oaths when needed, their word was trusted more than muggle.

Meaning his.

"Let me get this straight, Minister Fudge," Mycroft started in a soft tone that meant no good for anyone. "Are you trying to say that we have to release Moriarty because the new aunt declared him Harry Potter's babysitter?" Even the dullest would hear the underlying sarcasm in his speech.

"If you put it that way…" The idiot Minister, who was an arrogant and pompous cretin, smiled before adding, "Yes."

"I am sorry, what?" Mycroft cast a disapproving glance at Sherlock's best friend, Dr. Watson, who had been silently listening from the couch, while Sherlock was staring out of the window.

"I demand that you release the babysitter of our Boy-who-lived." Fudge really pissed him off with his arrogance and stupidity.

"You can demand whatever you want when you're in _your_ ministry, but in my ministry that's not how it works, Minister Fudge." Sherlock looked at him briefly, upon hearing the steel notes in Mycroft's voice, and looked out of the window again. If his brother started using drugs again because of those mad men….

"No need to get offended, Mister Holmes. Just return to us what is ours and we will have no problems then."

No one had ever spoken to him like that, in such an arrogant tone, as if Mycroft and the whole Ministry were lowly worms, if not worse.

"Moriarty is ours. He's Muggle, so even your Ministry of Magic would not be able to do anything," Mycroft almost sneered at the annoying face and blinked when he thought the Minister's eyes shone yellow for a millisecond.

"Ah, you see, there lies the problem." Fudge started twirling his hat on one finger, pissing Dr. Watson off as well.

"And what may that problem be?" Mycroft leaned back in his chair to observe this weird wizard who had asked for a meeting with both Holmeses the day before.

He actually preferred talking to Dumbledore. Even though Dumbledore was very hard to read, then with Fudge it looked worse as Mycroft's observations were constantly changing and there was nothing he knew about the Minister of Magic for certain.

"Richard Brook is muggle, however, Harry Potter is very important to our world, and if the word came out that simple muggles are torturing Harry Potter's childhood friend, then there will be consequences."

"For you?" Sherlock's straight question almost made Mycroft smirk, but it was Fudge who had smirked instead.

"For you."

"Is that a threat, Minister Fudge?" Mycroft asked, rising from his chair, just like Fudge was.

The small, beady eyes of the Minister of Magic were looking at him, and Mycroft felt a shiver run down his spine.

This was not a joke.

"A threat?" The Minister laughed a bit before getting serious and looking at all of them with an arrogant expression on his pale face. "Consider it a promise."

Mycroft saw how much effort Sherlock had to put in to not react, and he was proud of his little brother.

Oh, Sherlock…Sherlock took the news about magic worse than he did, wanting to see and understand how everything worked; wanting to see the wizarding world, but it wasn't possible. It was bitter to realise there were people who had such a gift, but then again, he himself wasn't the missed out one. He was a genius and even his bright brother seemed often dull and slow. But he would never be able to fly, to change a stone to a glass with a flick of his wand, to teleport anywhere in the world without having to use planes and helicopters.

Potions, that's what Mycroft wanted the most, and even if he did get them, he couldn't use it on himself, or those who he cared about. Since they all were Muggles, most magical potions did not work the way they were supposed to, or had such severe consequences that he wouldn't dare give his brother a portion of Felix Felicis.

 _Moste Potente Potions_ was one of those books he had read with extreme pleasure.

He had read about Hogwarts and the Wizengamot, about vampires and werewolves, and he couldn't believe it was real. He knew it was, but it still hurt he couldn't use his brilliant mind in something much more interesting than what he was doing now.

The borders were so much wider when magic was at play.

However, it was how it was, and no matter what, he represented the non-wizarding people, and looking at the wizard in question, Mycroft calculated the outcome of this conversation. This wasn't going to end well.

"We will not give out Jim Moriarty, even if you call him Jesus."

Did Fudge even know who Jesus was? Wizards didn't believe in god, or at least, one god, or so it seemed from the wizarding history books. Not that he blamed them, with all the witch hunting and inquisitions, and Fudge was a pureblood, just like Malfoy.

Lucius Malfoy had first sneered and then laughed, saying the idiot Muggles had been fooled by a wizard who easily turned water to wine without a wand and could use levitating spells, then shook his long, blond hair as he listened to theology explained in a manner fit for a six-year old.

Half-bloods and muggle-borns _—_ Mudblood _s—_ were those who were bringing in 'all the religious nonsense' that polluted real traditions, or so Lucius Malfoy had explained it to him over a delicious cup of magical coffee.

The Minister of Magic looked ready to laugh, and the sharp glint in the normally bleary eyes alerted Mycroft that something was going on that he wasn't aware of.

"I can order to have hundreds of your men mind-washed with a simple Imperius spell that I am sure you're well aware of. I can supply your enemies in the government with information you couldn't dream of, and I can just simply take out my wand and turn you into the worm that you actually are." The Minister wasn't sweating and he wasn't nervous. He had a steel glint in his eyes, which now were sharp and dangerous. This wasn't the Minister of Magic he had met before.

Either he was only now showing his true colours, or it was a different person altogether.

Sherlock's enraged face was surpassed only by Dr. Watson's, leaving only him and the Minister calm.

"No." Mycroft said after a pause and smiled at Fudge's raised eyebrows and the hint of surprise in the sharp eyes. "Moriarty stays where he is, and this is official, Minister Fudge."

The wizard threw his hands to the sides in a gesture completely inappropriate to the situation, additionally throwing his head back, while Mycroft shared glances with Sherlock.

A second later the wizard was looking at them with a pleased smile. "We'll see about that, Mister Holmes." Fudge put his hat back where it belonged, and disappeared into thin air, only an echo of "We'll see" remaining.

"What the hell was that, Mycroft?" Sherlock was looking at him for answers, because his little brother refused to believe his own conclusions, which were correct.

"It wasn't only about Moriarty, just like you have deducted yourself, Sherlock." Mycroft looked at the worried face of Dr. Watson and then back at his brother. "He just unofficially declared us war."

It was all very bad.

xxx

He didn't know what Dumbledore wanted, but today had been a very weird day. Voldemort was gone, and Dumbledore could shove his "personal matters" into his arse. His very useful tool was eliminated and Harry was not even a step closer to unveiling the secret of his weirdness.

After three shots in the head _—_ and one Avada Kedavra before that _—_ he had tried falling from a cliff and took an overdose of many, many things, and then, when he'd die, he would feel his true power. It would hold him and then put his soul back into his body, healing everything no matter the injuries. And he needed to know what this power meant.

He didn't really give a shit about anything, but he was curious about who he really was. Something was off with his magic and himself, and Harry needed to know why.

He needed to meet Death and ask why he couldn't die like everybody else did. And now, probably thanks to the Headmaster, his best source of information was cut off, and Harry did not like that.

"Enter, my boy."

Smacking his lips at 'my boy', Harry opened the door of the Tower that belonged solely to the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

An ugly chicken was sitting on the perch inside a golden cage, and as soon as Harry entered, the bird turned to look at him, as if sensing his presence, and with a high scream, it turned into ashes, like it always did when Harry visited the Headmaster.

He knew that as soon as he left the room, the phoenix would rise from the ashes and stop pretending, or whatever the bird was doing. Harry hated it, if he had to be honest.

McNugget.

Dumbledore was sitting behind his large desk, drinking hot chocolate and with a hand inviting Harry over to take a seat meant for him.

"I know that you are not very fond of me, Harry, and I understand why. Whatever I have done in the past, I have done with the intention to protect you. I am sorry for how it all worked out with your aunt Petunia." The old man was sincere, and Harry sighed, as he definitely wasn't in a mood for sentiments now. Dumbledore had done him a favour by placing him with the Dursleys, if the other option was to be raised to be like Draco Malfoy or Ronald Weasley.

However, that didn't cover the fact that Dumbledore had known about Sirius' innocence since he was the one who had cast the Fidelity Charm.

"Is there any specific reason why you wished to see me, Professor?" Harry took the offered tea and biscuits, but ignored the weird lemon drops.

"Tell me, Harry, when was the last time you saw your aunt?" The question was unexpected, then again, considering Malfoy had lost the horse…What did his drugged-out auntie do?

"Why do ask, Professor?"

Dumbledore was looking him straight in the eye, but not turning to Legilimency yet.

The pause was tense and Harry broke it to finally scratch the annoying itch he couldn't tolerate anymore. His shoulders were itching like mad, and Harry grit his teeth.

"You should see Madam Pomfrey about the itching, Harry. She can give you a cream or a potion."

Nice way to not answer his question.

"Did you know that Petunia Dursley was magical and attended Salem's School of Magic?" Harry's jaw hit the floor because if his horsie was magical, then he was...Hermione Granger. And the girl just rubbed him the wrong way.

"If my aunt is magical, then my best friend is Ronald Weasley, Professor Dumbledore." Was Dumbledore senile? How could Petunia be anything but muggle?

"I completely understand, my boy, and I agree wholeheartedly that Petunia Dursley cannot be magical." Harry found himself nodding, even disregarding the ugly 'my boy' again, as Petunia was someone who had managed to turn possible love into definite hate, so to speak. He wouldn't have turned out a complete freak with murderers and psychopaths as fellow playmates, had Petunia done at least something right when it concerned him.

But she hadn't. She had forced him to take medicine, while knowing that he wasn't crazy, but magical. She had it coming, fully deserving to be lying in the stables of Malfoy's french estate, drugged out of her mind but still alive.

And now she was gone, and apparently, became a witch while she should be detoxing somewhere in a ditch instead. Harry looked at Dumbledore, understanding that now they had a common enemy, and nodded. "She's muggle." And he would confirm it before the Wizengamot.

If she was magical, then she wasn't his aunt.

"Thank you, Harry, for your honesty." The headmaster stroked his beard as he spoke, looking briefly at the ashes of the phoenix. The first time McNugget had refused to resurrect, Dumbledore had spent over twenty minutes worrying over the chicken, before Harry left, and the roast returned with a loud song. "Petunia initiated an investigation as to why she was declared muggle when she was magical. I know that Petunia Dursley, the only sister of Lily Potter, was muggle with no traces of magic in her core." Dumbledore was honestly telling him the facts, and Harry sat more comfortably and even drank the tea.

"Let her. She's an imposter." Who had kidnapped auntie from the magically enchanted stables and had known where to look when searching for the Dursleys, which wasn't an easy thing to do, considering they stopped existing a few years ago, living off the benefits of being his beloved relatives.

No one knew. Well, besides Lucius, and the blond wizard was too fond of his offspring to do something so stupid, plus he gained nothing.

"Harry, you and Sirius need to fight for his right of custody. Petunia is a muggle while Sirius is magical. At least you don't hate your godfather yet. Give him a try."

Harry's eyebrows were living a life of their own and he played first with one and then the other , raising and lowering them periodically, stopping only when Dumbledore's hairy monsters joined in the dance, rising high.

"I am glad you understand where I stand with my auntie, Professor." He didn't hate Dumbledore that much. He didn't trust the old man, but hate was a word meant for others. However, like all things, Harry was sure it was temporary. He'd bet his watch Dumbledore would do something that would change the balance towards hate before Harry finished his first year.

"Is there anything else you wished to tell me, Professor?" He didn't know why he asked, but he did, and he had to stand like an idiot, waiting for Dumbledore to decide what to do.

The Headmaster seemed to finally decide what he wanted from Harry and pulled out a drawer. Simultaneously with the opening drawer, Harry's shoulders burned like mad, making him reach out and scratch them with a loud moan.

"Off you go to Madame Pomfrey, and here is a letter for Professor McGonagall, excusing your lateness to class." Harry felt disappointment as he took the thin paper. He didn't know what he had expected, but not an excuse letter.

"Have a good day, Headmaster."

"You too, Harry."

xxx

Sherlock rushed into Mycroft's office, after his brother didn't respond to his calls and texts, and found the office empty. The coffee on the table was still warm and everything lay in places like they would when Mycroft was working.

But his brother wasn't there.

Sherlock closed the door and sat behind his brother's desk, putting his hand between his hands, pulling on the curls.

Mycroft was missing, just like Jim Moriarty was, along with the jar and the heart.

 _xxx_

 _a/n This is not my favourite chapter, but it is needed. Anyway, the next chapter I'll reveal who Harry really is, and what the main plot for the story is. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and left their opinions. Can anyone guess who/what Harry is? Come on, I even mentioned his name somewhere in the story- don't want to point fingers as to where, but it's there :) He's not God and not Antichrist, and I think I made a mistake by saying Harry wasn't mentioned in the Bible, when asked by one reader. He's mentioned everywhere! I am slow sometimes, sorry for that. And happy Women's day, girls! Thank you all for reading and till later!_


	15. A Perfect Storm

_This chapter is the definition of crazy. I hope you like it._

 _Beta: Julie. fjad_

—

Chapter Fifteen

 **A perfect storm**

He had been sitting in his comfortable chair, in his highly secured office, when he simply vanished.

The foggy texture felt real under his fingertips as he was kneeling before the golden gates, feeling liberation and gloria, freedom from all the worries and heavy burdens.

It had never felt better.

"Is that convincing enough, Mycroft?" The voice that asked him the question belonged to someone he had believed to be fictional.

Now, however… Angels and demons existed, just as Heaven and Hell, and he, Mycroft Holmes, was now in Heaven with an archangel as his company.

He would make an appointment with Dr. Darrymore— PhD in Criminal Psychiatry—to check on his mental health as soon as this possible hallucination ended.

The problem was he knew it was no hallucination.

At his nod, the archangel smiled and snapped his fingers, making them disappear and reappear in a spacey room with two large sofas and clouds as accessories.

"You are the first human I have brought to Heaven just for a visit. Don't get too used to the heavenly atmosphere, you'll be back on the battlefield to defend the human race straight after our conversation is over." The archangel looked like a man around his forties, with kind but hard brown eyes, and light brown hair, dressed in a long, white tunic with red linings, and sandals. Mycroft hoped Michael would answer a few of his questions.

"The human race is endangered?" Well, he knew that himself, but he still hoped it was reversible.

"I am afraid it is." The archangel wasn't joking or messing around, and Mycroft felt goosebumps run down his arms.

"How?"

"I will tell you something and you make the conclusions, alright?"

The archangel showed towards the sofa, offering Mycroft a seat, which he took eagerly; considering his worldview and knowledge were shattering apart, he needed to sit.

In Heaven.

Dear Lord, why was this happening?

"I am listening." Mycroft looked at the figure of the man with large, white wings behind his back. They were at least two meters long each, and looked very impressive. Now that he had finally accepted that this wasn't magic as he knew it from the wizards, Mycroft could start re-building the bigger picture.

"The world is on the brink of destruction, and unfortunately for you, not everyone in Heaven wants to continue with the current human race, and therefore they are enabling our fallen brother, whom you had the pleasure of meeting today." Michael paused and Mycroft's breath hitched as he understood just whom he had spoken to today.

He had believed the Minister to be an imposter, but 'The Devil' hadn't been on his list of the possible scheme candidates. He didn't believe he existed.

And he had spoken to him today.

Sherlock would lose his mind if he found out.

"You are truly exceptional, Mycroft. It pleases me my gift has not been wasted." He just couldn't comprehend the fact that this was truly the archangel Michael and they were in Heaven.

This is crazy!

"Your gift?" How was he supposed to talk to an archangel who happened to be the famous Michael?

"Crazy is what is happening in the world. You know that better than others. Anyway, if you think you're so exceptionally smart only thanks to your DNA, then think again." Michael took a seat on the opposite sofa, and took a sip of tea which tasted simply phenomenal.

Great, his brains were also not his...

"They are yours, I just gave my blessing." He knew he was staring but what else to do at a declaration like that? "Back to business if you don't mind…" Michael was very polite and had a constant angelic aura that was overbearing at some moments. "You are facing two problems, Mycroft, one being the direct cause of the other. Lucifer will try to wreak havoc as much as he can, with Gabriel helping from the other side. My sister may say she isn't working with Lucifer, but she is.

"Why?" Why would an archangel co-operate with the devil? Wasn't she supposed to be the good one?

Corruption?

"That's a bit harsh. Gabriel doesn't comprehend what she is doing because she's blinded by her love for our Father and hurt for not being in his presence for such a long time. She believes only our nephew can help with the current situation, and considering she has been trying to force his hand for at least a few hundred years…" Michael nodded at the questions in his eyes, and Mycroft felt so human, so simple and vulnerable…

"Our nephew is the boy you know as Harry Potter."

Here we go…

"He is dangerous, Mycroft."

If an archangel was telling him the boy was dangerous, then the boy was beyond dangerous. Was the boy the reason he was here?

"Yes. You stand no chance, Mycroft, and I don't really like it. I want you to fight, to not give up, to defeat the undefeatable. If I don't help you, it's over."

"Why don't you simply stop him, then? You're Michael, the all-powerful archangel, why don't you try to put an end to something you describe as the end for humanity?" This wasn't a typical conversation with one of the gold fishes, and Mycroft was honest and fully invested like never before in his life.

Michael thinned his lips, his eyes were hard and one eyebrow was raised in question. "Why should I protect you, if you don't even believe I exist? Tell me, Mycroft, I would really like to know the answer to this question that I have been asking myself over and over again."

"Because you're an angel." He sounded retarded to his own ears, but he had no other explanation as to why. He didn't understand that himself, if he had to be honest. Most British people also didn't know Mycroft existed, but there he was, worrying and saving their lives, without getting anything in return.

"Funny." Michael stopped drilling him with the hard gaze that went right through to the bones, and looked somewhere above. "He is not my enemy, therefore I shall not use my powers to stop him. And before you ask, even if I wanted to, I couldn't. His powers were given to him for a reason, and I cannot compare to that. He has a license to kill, signed by our father, and there is not much I can do against it."

He was afraid now. He truly was, because it didn't look too good.

"Who is he?"

God's James Bond...

"He is as old as I am. While he is supernatural, he's not an angel and not a demon, he's something completely neutral. He has fans like Gabriel and Lucifer, and his mother..." Mycroft was looking for any clues in the brown eyes of the archangel, blinking only when he comprehended what Michael had said.

"A scythe?" He didn't need an answer from his conversationalist, he understood it himself what Harry Potter's mother was.

The archangel seemed to be deep in thoughts before finally focusing his gaze on Mycroft.

"I'll show you."

The quiet room disappeared to be replaced by the sounds of a large megapolis and the next second Mycroft's feet landed on polished pavement of a very interesting looking crystal city, seeing people on the streets as if he was casually standing somewhere in London.

"We are in my memory, Mycroft, to see my nephew. I find that showing him once could be much more beneficial than explaining and imagining, when dealing with people like you."

Why were all the buildings so weirdly shaped? Were they actually spherical?

Xxx

 _He had been in his bed, and that meant it was again a dream. He had had a very hard day today, with Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger fighting in Slytherin dormitories before breakfast and creating problems where they weren't needed, especially now, when Potter's insane adult-memory could wreak havoc any minute._

 _Severus looked at the weirdly shaped buildings and looked around, knowing whom to look for._

 _Potter was nowhere to be seen, and Severus decided to look around, since he was dreaming anyway._

 _The day was extremely sunny, with a few sparse white clouds and warm breeze, the sunrays illuminating the whole city in light from the crystal buildings. Severus had never seen anything as beautiful before, and he marvelled at it while listening to elegant music that seemed to come from everywhere._

 _The city was magical, but it was a far cry from Diagon Alley. Their magical London was the complete opposite of this city, and he tried in vain to find any indicators as to where exactly he was._

 _Above were at least fifty rows up of cars, with enormous air interchanges, and Severus shook his head in amazement._

 _He had never heard of this place, and it had never existed. The level of technology seemed much higher than in their muggle world as well._

 _Severus stopped near a shop with large screens, and with a pleased smile, he saw the news broadcast._

 _A weirdly-dressed, red-eyed, pink-and-blonde female with no wrinkles and pouty lips was showing her white teeth in a friendly smile, and Severus was all ears._

" _Today the new law was approved by the Sovereign Senate, and before you start cheering, at least listen to it fully, zizzu-zuzzu, people?" Apparently, this 'zizu-whatever' was similar to British 'alright'. What a crazy world Potter had in his head..._

 _Sovereign Senate…_

 _Severus heard a lot of cheering from the nearby passers, and intrigued, he listened further._

" _Now, our dear viewers, you can purchase up to seven female slaves and ten men, meaning two more each!" The pretty blonde with pouty lips was smiling in joy together with the people on the streets, and Severus continued listening, horrified at what he was hearing._

" _The Slave show with be held live, today, on AST. It's the event of the month and every celebrity will be there, along with the fans of the show, so don't go anywhere, we'll be right back, after a small commercial break."_

 _Severus was silently looking at the monitors, calming himself with the idea that it was just a dream, even if Potter inspired._

 _On the screen, appeared beautiful children of different ages and then a kind and professional looking man in his sixties._

" _All the organs you need, selected for your specific needs, for only seventy to ninety credits. Fresh and healthy, that is how we must strike to be. Don't let yourself get old, get a new set of organs now and save credits!"_

 _Severus looked away as one picture of open ribcage was shown, and wondered if this was hell._

 _The next commercial showed a ruined city with destroyed buildings and hordes of hungry people before it changed to palaces with crystals everywhere._

 _The text appeared and a soft voice read it with intonations that made Severus hold back a snarl._

" _Having a bad day? Lazy slaves ruining your morning? Then listen here! Two slaves for the price of one, only today. Don't miss your chance to a deal of your lifetime! At Madform now!" Everyone around him rushed towards one destination, and Severus thought it was the same Madform where the slaves were being sold._

 _This city looked beautiful but it was the worst place he knew. It was more disgusting than Azkaban._

 _The sun disappeared, and Severus looked up, to see dark clouds gather from all the sides, lightings striking in spider webs. The warm breeze was replaced by ice cold wind, and he heard people scream in panic._

 _The earth shook under his feet, its vibrations making the glass and crystals cling, creating a sound that was getting louder and louder, and he was alert in a second. The ground was shaking steadily, before the power of the shakes went up in some places, and soon the whole buildings were swallowed by the holes that had appeared in the ground._

 _He ran towards safety, even if the shaking did not stop, his heart beating wildly, even if it was a dream, it felt horrible now. One of the most terrifying nightmares he had ever experienced, Severus thought, as he looked up._

 _Th_ _e cars were now crashing into, and falling onto each other, t_ _he magical barrier being the only thing that separated them from the ground and pedestrians, like Severus._

 _The ground was shaking, the cars were all falling down like bugs, but that wasn't what made Severus freeze. His heart was beating too fast, and it was hard to breathe when he saw the waves above, surrounding the city from all sides. Huge, simply enormous waves stood tall, as if waiting for something, hovering high above the crystal city which was being destroyed by the earthquake. Severus was standing on a street that was partially damaged, and looked down at a particularly hard shake, removing his eyes from the waves only for a second. When he looked back, he screamed in terror as the waves were now rushing down, towards the city and him._

 _It is a dream._

 _A dream._

 _Severus heard the screams all around him, the once beautiful city drowning in them when he felt the impact of the wave._

He woke up with a scream, spasmodically breathing and clutching his hand to his heart. Only after getting a few deep breaths, Severus noticed his other hand was clutching a wet envelope.

 _When you visit a place, it is a custom to take a souvenir with you._

Severus quickly opened the envelope and took out the souvenir.

On a beautifully shaped magnet was a picture of the crystal city, clearly magical, as it was like a miniature figure with flying cars and the large golden gates he had seen in Potter's memory. The same gates that fell onto the city when the waves crashed.

The name of the city was closed with a plaster, and still breathing hard from the nightmare, Severus tore the plaster off.

 _ATLANTIS_

Xxx

Mycroft darted forward when he saw Jim Moriarty stand near a tall figure, dressed in black, and was held back by Michael, who seemed pissed now.

"I cannot believe it!" The archangel was now muttering through his teeth, clearly unhappy with the yellow-eyed man who held Moriarty's elbow, smiling sweetly.

"My all-time favourite brother! What a coincidence!" The yellow-eyed man laughed out loud, pointing at Michael with an index finger, beckoning them closer.

Brother of Michael who looked creepy and wasn't very beloved…

Dear Lord!

"Now that's how you address me, Michael! Learn from Mycroft while you still can." The Devil was cackling, dragging white-faced Moriarty with him, moving towards the rows of people, dressed in white, black or grey clothes.

"Lucifer, what is he doing here?" Mycroft also would like to know the answer to the question, since last time he had seen Moriarty, the man had been heartless—literally—and half-dead.

Now they were also approaching the crowds on the hill, overlooking a shining, crystal city.

"Michael, what is he doing here?" Lucifer mimicked the other archangel, blinking rapidly at Mycroft, yellow eyes shining with glee. He had spoken to this 'person' already.

"Why do you always have to do things to piss me off? Why are you such a fucker?!" Even white-faced Moriarty, who apparently, had no clue where he was, or who he was with, looked surprised at the exclamation.

"I am a fucker? You are a fucker, Michael, for turning against me!"

"You have always been insane, but I loved you too much to notice just how insane you truly are!"

"No fighting, boys, today is a good day. Finally." Nothing should surprise him anymore, even a tall, blonde woman with shining blue eyes and large, white wings behind her back.

"Gabi, you look amazing today, sister!" Lucifer made a movement to hug the woman, who with a sneer, looked at Michael instead. "Mycroft Holmes…Are you serious, Michael?" Everybody here knew him, or so it seemed, and could read thoughts, which wasn't what he was used to.

"Lucifer dragged the bastard who had broken a Seal to watch, and you're not asking why. What do you think Lucifer can discuss with number two on his black list?" If Moriarty was number two, Mycroft wasn't sure he wanted to meet the number one.

Who could it be? Then again, what exact criteria were used to get into the list was also unknown, and Mycroft for a second felt he was going crazy.

"I don't care, Michael, let him. I am here to enjoy the memory," Gabriel answered with a lazy wave of her wing, and smiled at Mycroft.

"You want him to succeed, you want him," Michael pointed at the confused Moriarty, "to continue. He's a monster, Gabriel, have a little bit of dignity!"

"What do you want me to do? He is not ours and Lucifer cannot take him. Look at the mark on his hand and then babble about morality and dignity, brother." Mycroft managed to see a symbol of what resembled a four on Moriarty's wrist that was quickly taken by Michael.

He had so many questions...When he lifted his eyes from the mark, he met Moriarty's gaze and he saw it there too- for the first time in their lives they were nothing here. They were human, no matter how smart.

"Is that the Devil?" He so wanted to smack his fist into Moriarty's face, however, it was the expression on the said face that fascinated him. At Moriarty's whisper, all three supernatural guests looked at each other and then at the crowd which was getting larger and larger.

"No, that's the Queen."

Snickering, Devil waved at Moriarty and winked. "Hi, darling!"

"Is that for real?" Moriarty's question was mirrored in his own head, as Mycroft noticed that the crowds on the hill were parting, allowing a figure in a grey cloak to stand at the front, the scythe shining in the sun.

"Is that…?"

"Yes."

It looked like he and Moriarty understood each other very well, as they both were staring at Death with wide eyes.

"Who is the boy?" Mycroft whispered to the-one-who-should-be-dead, only to hear a whisper back.

"What?"

"Harry Potter, your friend. What is he?"

"One of them, I think." Moriarty nodded with his head towards the crowd.

"So you don't even know?" How can someone be so careless?

"Harry does not know himself who or what he is. I know that he doesn't die easily, though." Jim smiled his innocent but crazy smile and Mycroft almost shook his head.

Surprise. Not.

"What have you done?"

"He broke the second seal," Lucifer answered the question instead of Moriarty, and even added a small "Thanks."

"I did what?" Moriarty was shaking his head, as if denying everything, even when all three supernatural beings looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Did you shoot Harry Potter in the head three times?" Gabriel smiled a sweet smile, as if thankful.

Moriarty was silent, wincing, and Mycroft's horrifying realisation was written all over his face.

"Yep, that was me."

"The boy cannot be killed?" Mycroft asked Moriarty who mouthed a silent but large "No", rounding his sparkling eyes.

"He's the only one with full authority from our father, so what did you expect?" Gabriel wasn't even looking at them, instead inspecting the city below.

"What authority?" Jim Moriarty was truly interested in the answer and thinned his lips and eyes at the answer Mycroft had already known.

"To kill."

The lightning stroke came from out of nowhere, hitting the ground nearby.

"Where are we?"

Mycroft looked over at Moriarty, who had asked a question again, and then to where the madman was looking. The crowds on the hill parted, creating three groups, in white, grey and black.

Angels, demons and the grey were…

"Reapers," Michael smiled at the silent question and then winced, looking somewhere up.

"Finally," Gabriel muttered, while throwing her hands in the air, and going towards the group in white, leaving Lucifer and Michael with him and Moriarty alone, not bothering to answer the question about their location.

"Our nephew is here," Lucifer sang in a happy voice, looking at the moving figure, which had appeared with the hit of the lightning. A shimmering, hooded cloak was covering the face of the newcomer, who held something in his right hand. Only at Moriarty's spasmodic movement, which caused him to fall onto his knees, Mycroft looked away from the hooded figure.

"Now we'll be good boys and stay behind that sceptre, not directly in front of it." The Devil quickly dragged both him and Moriarty behind the newcomer, allowing Michael to approach them from the side, sidestepping the direct path of the sceptre the man was holding. His elbow burnt like mad the second the Devil touched him; the eerie yellow eyes shining with maleficent thoughts as the Devil- Sherlock just would not believe him- looked over his face.

"Sad that you're not mine, Mycroft. Should I say 'yet'?"

Thank God…

"Hands off!" Lucifer received a shove from Michael and let Mycroft's elbow go, allowing the archangel to heal everything with just a simple touch that felt so good.

"Time."

One word, and almost everything around him seemed to freeze in time, allowing to watch only the cloaked figure, who now held the sceptre that resembled Saturn in vertical position, the outer ring of the sceptre twirling faster and faster. The air became cold and the clouds appeared from nowhere, completely hiding the sun.

Spiderwebs of lightning were illuminating the now black sky, hitting the ground more and more often. The wind changed from a warm breeze to cold, biting blows, growing in power more and more.

The time seemed to halt completely when the outer ring of the sceptre slowed down before it fully stopped twirling.

"The balance cannot be restored, so according to the procedure, I initiate the countdown." Mycroft looked away from the man, who seemed to be talking to the sceptre in a rather bored voice, to gaze over archangel Gabriel, who seemed to have problems with standing quietly. She was half-jumping in anticipation, while Michael stood quietly, eyes cast down in silent prayer.

Moriarty, who had managed to get up from his sudden and unexpected kneeling position, grabbed Mycroft's hand.

"What the hell is going on?" Moriarty's face had traces of fear that Mycroft wasn't sure he himself had managed to hide that well from Jim's smart eyes.

"He's our reset button." Lucifer's face was centimeters away from theirs, and Mycroft shivered at the same time Moriarty did. He wasn't the only afraid here, it seemed.

The suspicion of what the man with the sceptre could be crawled into his brain and then hit directly into the heart. People call it a panic attack, and he was going to get one now, especially after reading the same conclusion in Moriarty's shining, insane eyes.

He wasn't sure if it was ecstasy or terror he saw there. Or both.

The sceptre in the man's hand shone bright white, and an aura of power far greater than simple magic washed all over them, before collecting all its rays in one pulsing ball of light at the tip of the sceptre.

"Zero." Now the man's voice was clear and commanding, the shimmering cloak billowing in the wind, and with the sceptre that even archangels tried to avoid, he looked more than dangerous.

The pulsing with the light ball exploded and rushed towards the city, destroying everything on its path. The crystal city was being crushed from all sides, the sounds of crystal breaking was in background of the screams that flew up to the hill where they stood.

The power of destruction was unimaginable; earth shaking and wind with fire were tearing the large city apart.

When the waters that surrounded the city rose into soldier-like waves, standing so high Mycroft could not see the tip of the wave, he and Moriarty could only stare in silence, everything they saw confirming their assumptions.

When the waves crashed, destroying the city with brutality none had seen before, Mycroft closed his eyes and accepted the fact that if his world wanted to live, they would have to somehow stop the destructive power of Apocalypse, for the end was closer than they had ever imagined, and he was looking at him now.

"He's perfect, isn't he?" The Devil took out a large tome and laughed. "I simply loved Atlantis, but not many souls left to buy, soooo boring."

God save them.

Apocalypse was real and he was here.

Xxx

 _a/n I think Yikes! is more appropriate than Oops! Told you Harry was powerful ;)_

 _Dear guest and everyone who bothered to spend a minute and leave me a note , thank you so much! I miss Voldemort and Lucius, so the next chapter is theirs. Maybe not, we'll see. Till later!_


	16. Supernatural

_I couldn't find a perfect melody for this story for a long time. But now I have. I prefer to bind the tune with the writing, so if you're interested, Harry/Apocalypse's theme is_ _ **1492: Conquest of Paradise by Vangelis**_ _. I think most of you are familiar with it. The theme can tell a lot about the story. Enjoy!_

 _Beta: Julie. fjad_

—

Chapter Sixteen

 **Supernatural**

Slowly, he looked around the crystal city one more time.

How long had it taken for Atlantis to rise to its glory?

How much hard work was put into the city, and how many brilliant people had given their everything to bring Atlantis to its peak, and for what?

For everything to end like it always did.

Without anyone noticing, he was here, walking among the unsuspecting crowds, looking at everything without the membrane of lies obstructing the true essence of people. It did not matter what gods people believed in, they all believed in him. He had many names, from Armageddon to the Doomsday, but he preferred Apocalypse.

He was created to judge and execute. He was the destruction itself, and no other force was stronger or more powerful than him.

And still, every time he tried to help and restore the balance, not destroy everything with the power given to only him. And every time he failed.

Earth was his most favourite planet—after Saturn—and he didn't want it gone, he thought while walking among the last generation of Atlantis, in its last days, without the citizens knowing anything. Unaware he was going to unleash his powers on them in just a few days, unsuspecting citizens went on with their lives which only looked shiny, but were rotten on the inside.

It was a paradise for many, but for many more citizens, it was hell. Wars, crimes, and conceit of a perfect world built upon the blood of the innocent.

He had even allowed Severus to experience the last minutes of the famous Atlantis. Not many people had such a privilege, and he was sure Severus appreciated the gesture.

He showed Severus what would happen to Earth if the humans managed to break all the seals. If they managed to bring the planet to the brink of total destruction. If the Seven Seals—that he had selected himself, should he be reborn in his true form—were to fall, he would have to call for a countdown and evaluate the balance.

And judging by how fast the seals were being ripped apart, one after another, he was pretty sure by the end of this year at least two more would crack.

He was only eleven and three out of seven were already down.

Harry was him, and he was Harry.

The boy thought like him, had the same mimic and even had his green eyes and messy, black hair. His junior copy, born to Lily and James Potter, a human boy who had a chance at normal life. He had a chance to help people before Lord Voldemort had interfered.

The second the Killing Curse had left Voldemort's wand, he was back. The Dark Lord who wanted to live for eternity, single handily rolled the red carpet for the only power that could destroy not only wizards, but the whole world.

Apocalypse looked at the three thin cords he held in his left arm. Two red cords belonged to his two new comrades who still had no idea what had really happened, and the third cord, the blue one, belonged to Severus, whose good intentions managed to crack the third seal. He could have as many pals as he wanted, but he'd settle for four. His favourite number and the symbol of his chosen planet, Saturn, which, thanks to him, was associated with destruction.

And the humans did believe he had horsemen, so it would be fitting. He didn't know if he wanted to keep them all…Too crowded, even on Saturn...

No matter what others thought, he didn't enjoy his work. He hated turning magnificent creations into dust, erasing the whole era, vanishing everything that was achieved with hard work and genius imagination.

He preferred to live lives as flowers, birds, dolphins, and from time to time a human one. He had been everything there was to be—except a dinosaur, since he wiped them out for all the wrong reasons and then it would have been weird being a dinosaur when there were no others left—and he so did not want to kill over seven billion people.

If he was born as himself, that meant it couldn't be anything small, and the whole planet would have to be wiped clean for a new race to be born.

To then be destroyed again.

It was always the same, and with a bitter smile, Apocalypse looked at a perfectly dressed mother sweetly telling her child it was not a problem that she had ruined her new dress with buzzle-wuzzle, while thinking how she'd nail the child's hands to the wall for a few hours, when they would get home. Magic left no traces.

Shaking his head, Apocalypse glanced at the crystal glass to note his reflection. His green eyes were bright but solemn, his hair messy and his favourite cloak fastened with the stone of wisdom.

His sceptre was in his pocket, and he so did not want to activate the countdown on Earth, which would lead to the judgement moment, and he just knew that Earth would fall. Atlantis had no more chances left, and he had given more than enough time for people to change their lives. But like always, he had failed.

Atlantis was doomed, and he was afraid that Earth as he knew it in the 21th century would follow shortly.

The balance would be off, and possibly irreversible without restoring it to zero. And then Gabriel and Lucifer could start again, competing who would win.

Atlantis was divided—all the citizens of the upper Atlantis belonged Lucifer, and from the underground slave section most went to Gabriel.

It was like a carousel that didn't stop spinning, and he couldn't get off. He tried to run away from his duties, but it was not possible.

"Cali, my lovely child, what is bothering you?"

He had felt her presence even before she said a word, and turned to face the cloaked figure in grey, who held a large, shining scythe in her right hand.

"Mother." He smiled a small smile and looked over her cloaked figure.

Death was his mother, or so he had always known. He wasn't born, so to say, he was created, and he had never been breast-fed by Death because he was created an adult.

He had no feelings towards any of his relatives—well, Lucifer was amusing and Gabriel even more so—but that didn't mean he spoke to his family often.

He had never seen his Father, and had he not been the power of destruction created by god, he'd say there was no god.

He'd never met him, and he was Apocalypse. From what he knew, even Gabriel started to forget how it felt to be in Father's presence.

"I don't want to wipe out seven billion people and I'm not even bothering to count how many animals and other creatures." He heard a heavy sigh and his mother came closer to him, laying one gloved hand on his cloaked shoulder.

"Cali, I know you better than anyone." Her voice was soft and ethereal. "I am the one who turns you into flowers, dolphins, trees and rocks in space. I know you, Cali, and that's why I am here. This time Gabriel and Lucifer will break the seals, I can feel it. You cannot run away now."

He couldn't see the face of his mother—he had never seen it, actually, so nothing new here—but he knew her eyebrows were lifted at his amused smile. "I'm not planning to run away. Let them try, mother. I have a surprise for those two." Apocalypse laughed as he imagined the faces of his aunt and uncle when they would discover his biggest surprise.

There was only one thing that could stop him.

And that was himself.

xxx

He didn't know when he was supposed to be getting education, because he was constantly being whisked away by the Headmaster, who was now sitting behind his large desk, looking at the Minister of Magic who kept a very close eye on Harry.

How was he supposed to learn anything if he wasn't allowed in the classes?

Then again, he had a nasty lesson now, so it was actually great that he wouldn't be breathing any toxic fumes. He wasn't talking about Potions, he meant Divination.

However, it looked like Dumbledore had already puffed this morning. The left-over fumes were in the tower as well, clearly, polluting his brain, as there was no other explanation as to why the Minister of Magic felt so familiar that upon entering the Tower, Harry had almost said "Uncle": it had to be Dumbledore's premium weed.

There was one problem, though. He didn't mind the large black wings behind the Minister's back—who was he to judge if bullets didn't work on him, and he could create wings like that as well—, it was the anagram that bothered him.

No matter how Harry rearranged the letters, he couldn't get from Cornelius Fudge the name he was seeing over the Minister's head, at least without any weird words attached.

Harry knew he was spacing off, but he kept rearranging the letters to form one word he was seeing over the Minister of Magic's head.

Cornelius Fudge was Genocide Sulfur, Recoiled Fungus and Confused Uglier, but it did not fit with the glowing red name.

Who in their right mind calls himself Lucifer?

Their conversation was normal—if you can say so when dealing with Albus Dumbledore—until the Headmaster said a phrase Harry couldn't agree with.

Dumbledore had said, "With God's help, we'll succeed", and Harry agreed with the Minister whose eyebrows were also raised.

For a second, Harry imagined the Minister jumping up and romping around, screaming that he was better than God and others should turn to him for help because he was always there, unlike some…

Inwardly snickering, Harry looked at Minister Fudge who kept staring at him, eyes interested and happy.

Weirdo.

Harry wasn't against succeeding, it was the other thing that bothered him.

"Headmaster, is this a catholic school?" At Dumbledore's highly surprised face, Harry offered another option. "Evangelical?"

The shine in Minister's eyes—which were actually yellow with vertical pupils...How didn't he notice that before?—was getting brighter and brighter, and Harry wondered at the phlegmatic Dumbledore, who didn't seem to notice anything.

Must have been a good smoke, then.

"No, my boy, this is the school of magic." Gee, thanks.

"Thank you. That's how it should be then." The Minister was smiling, nodding his head slightly.

"What do you mean, I am afraid I don't follow you, my boy." I'm not your boy and no one manages to follow me.

"I am an atheist."

Duh.

"I beg your pardon?" The Minister opened his mouth before Dumbledore could.

Harry looked at the magical black wings and magically enchanted yellow eyes. "There is no god, no angels and no demons, and if you or anyone else want to prove me wrong, then show me something that cannot be explained by magic, and even then I'll find a proper explanation."

Why was the old Headmaster so shocked by his declaration? And the Minister was looking at Harry with suspicious eyes now . Was it mandatory to have faith in order to learn magic?

Because he had none.

There were no supernatural beings like gods, angels and demons.

As if he were stupid.

xxx

By now, the first part of the horrible Divination had ended, and Harry was still sitting in the Headmaster's Tower, but without the Headmaster himself. The Minister of Magic had wanted to speak to Harry privately, and after a few minutes of mutual glaring between Dumbledore and Fudge, the Headmaster had left.

Harry didn't know why, but he had a feeling this meeting was going to be different, especially when the Minister threw his wand on Dumbledore's table and waved his hands around the room, his large, black wings shimmering in the morning sun that peeked through the windows.

The Minister's visage vanished and a man in his fifties was standing before Harry, in a long, black cloak, with shining eyes and spread wings.

"Hello, my favourite nephew!"

Here we go…

The Minister—he wouldn't be calling him Lucifer because it was just ridiculous—waited and waited for a reply, only to get none.

One thing Harry learned from visiting psychiatrists and having Jim Moriarty as his pal, was to never argue with mentally ill and unstable people when alone in the room with said people.

That's why Harry didn't argue with Sirius when his Godfather had offered him to come live at Grimmauld place. Dumbledore may think Sirius was all there, but he wasn't. One look into his Godfather's mind, and Harry knew he had one more insane person in his close circle. It actually almost made him cry bitter tears, because if he had to count the normal people in his circle, he wouldn't need fingers. A zero was a zero.

"Cali?"

What a day it was turning to be.

"It's Harry." And this was the Minister of Magic…

If one day a large comet fell on them and smashed their arses together, Harry wouldn't be surprised. With such a Headmaster, such a Minister and such a Dark Lord, the end of the world was near.

"Do you know who I am?" The Minister asked with a pleased smile that would fit a sly fox.

"And you don't?" Alzheimer maybe, but then again, he didn't know that much about magical diseases, so it could be anything. Was it even allowed for the Minister to work with Alzheimer?

"Of course I know who I am!" For a second, the Minister raised his voice, and Harry got a very familiar feeling of utter amusement and satisfaction.

"Then why are you asking me?" Harry asked innocently, raising his eyebrows at the grunt from the Minister.

"Oh, I get it, Cali, I get it. You want to play." The Minister was now rubbing his hands together, grinning at Harry.

He needed to get out of here, now. It was one thing that he didn't die when he should, but no one would make Harry test the theory if he also couldn't be raped.

Could he?

Time to go.

"Was a pleasure meeting you, Minister Fudge. Wish you a pleasant day." The words were out of Harry's mouth as he quickly turned to leave, only to stop at the question from the Minister.

"Do you know who _you_ are, Harry Potter?"

Hmmm….He was Harry Potter and he couldn't die. Plus, he had very interesting magic and he could read minds…

Wait a second…

Harry turned around and looked directly into the yellow eyes.

"Aaaaa!" A second later both the Minister and Harry were on the floor; the Minister screaming in pain, holding his head, and Harry staring in shock.

If entering Voldemort's mind had hurt a bit, then this was pure agony.

"Fuck, Cali. Why do you always do it? Stay the fuck out of my head!" The Minister started the rant only to stop when Harry coughed.

"It's Harry." And so many fucks! He was only eleven, after all…

The Minister, who was still on the floor, quickly got up and spread his impressive, black wings.

"No, it's Cali, shortened form of your real name."

Harry also got up from the floor and frowned.

What?

"You," The Minister pointed at Harry and then spread his hands, almost giddy from joy, the wards around the room silencing everything from the others, "are," and looked Harry straight in the eye, "Apocalypse."

Did he hear right? What else sounded similar to Apocalypse?

"I am what?"

"You are Apocalypse."

…

The silence stretched, just like the black wings that started to twitch after a few minutes.

"Cali?"

"And you are?"

"I am the Devil." The man smiled and bowed a bit, as if in greeting.

"And I should trust your word because…" Harry trailed off, still looking at the man.

"Look at my wings."

"Magic."

"Look at my eyes."

"Magic."

"Feel me!"

"No, thanks."

"I meant my AURA!" Geeze, someone needed a little bit of me-time in one of the nice hospitals.

"Magic."

The Minister then closed his eyes, and the wings started to glow red, before the whole floor opened up and down below, Harry saw a very badly kept dump that not only looked bad, but also smelled awfully.

"Can you explain this with magic, my nephew? This is Hell."

What a delusional idiot. Then again, maybe he was being unfair to the poor man who didn't know the reality from fantasy anymore.

"I can, actually." Those wings were a basic magic trick that he had learned on his first day at Hogwarts, when he had stumbled upon a mirror in Dumbledore's Tower. And the dump…He was sure Grimmauld place didn't look much better, and he'd have to live there during the summer…

Yuck.

Willing the wings to appear, Harry looked at the wide, yellow eyes. Harry felt two large wings appear behind his back, one purely white and the other pitch black, and he waved with one of the wings at the frozen Minister.

"You're truly back."

Oh, geeeee….

"Yes, yes, I am. Now, if you don't mind, my magical wings have to fly to Astronomy." He didn't mind chatting with weird people to escape Divination, but Astronomy he really liked.

"You don't believe me, do you?" The Minister asked, one eyebrow raised, head tilted to the side.

"Of course I do!" Harry smiled and nodded his head a few times, slowly backing towards the door.

"Oh, my absolutely favourite nephew…You'll believe soon," The Minister said while putting his hat on, idiotic façade up, and waved his hands around the frozen portraits and the dead phoenix—McNugget had, like always, directly turned into ashes as soon as Harry had stepped into the room—and then picked up the wand from the table.

"Minister," Harry started after a short discussion with his own brain, "I understand your position, and I can guarantee confidentiality." He paused at the surprised expression on the Minister's face, and continued in a calmer tone. "I know some people who may help you."

The Minister was smiling again. "You mean Gabriel and Death?"

Right.

"I meant Dr. Doolie. His name sounds shit, but he knows what he's doing most of the time."

"Dr. Doolie?" The way the Minister said the name…So much contempt and hidden rage, ugh. Yeah, ungrateful from the Minister considering he was sharing useful information. If you get to the wrong doc, you may not have hallucinations anymore but not because of the success of the therapy. Vegetables don't hallucinate.

"A…healer," Harry offered so as to not scare the poor guy with big words like psychiatrist. A psychologist wouldn't be of any help in this case. It wasn't about chatting, it was all about the hard-core medicine this poor guy needed. Urgently.

"A healer…" The Minister repeated slowly, only to then shout out loudly, forgetting that the wards had been removed from the room. "I don't need a fucking shrink! I AM NOT INSANE, how many times do I have to repeat it to all of you!"

A cough from behind him stopped the rant, and Harry turned to look at a highly amused Dumbledore, who had witnessed the Minister's breakdown. It seemed that he had touched a nerve.

Maybe he wasn't the only one with bad shrink experience here?

"May I go and actually learn something, Professor?" Harry asked the Headmaster, who nodded with a smile.

"Think about it, Minister," Harry smiled sweetly at the red-faced Minister and wishing everyone a great day, he left.

What a bunch of weirdoes.

Who ever said supernatural things existed, was simply too lazy and stupid to look for a logical explanation, and Harry wasn't anywhere near stupid.

Supernatural, my ass.

It was all magic.

 _xxx_

 _a/n Thank you for your feedback!_

 _I prefer not to leave huge ANs with all the details, but I do need to clear one thing up. Harry is an actual apocalypse. He's not Joffrey- I hated the bastard, who couldn't die sooner- and even though it's an enormous AU, he's still Harry. His character is not developed yet, as it cannot be done in 15 chapters, without any spoilers. So, if you're looking for a story where you can be all sad for Harry, it's not this one. He doesn't need redemption :) He's not the evil bastard who runs around killing mindlessly. He is Apocalypse, who tries to find his path. I like him :) You may like him too, if you give him a chance ;)_


	17. The choices we make

_Beta: Julie. Fjad_

Chapter Seventeen

 **The choices we make**

—

The smell of fresh mint was the first thing he noticed, his nostrils catching the aroma he liked even before Harry registered that he was dreaming. The Gryffindor boy's room smelled like anything but mint. A closer description would be to say it smelled like someone had sweated all over the mint before leaving their stinky shoes on the mint leaves for a few hours.

It was quiet, but at the same time, he could hear peaceful sounds here and there.

Deciding that maybe this dream would not suck, Harry opened his eyes.

He looked around for a second, then looked down, and a high-pitched scream escaped him whether he wanted it or not.

"Aaa! AAAAA!" He knew he sounded just like the people he always mocked, but he couldn't stop screaming, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

He was getting hysterical because he was lying face down on one of the rocks that formed a ring around Saturn—the sixth planet of their solar system—and below was just nothing. Rocks were twirling and flying around—in open space, mind you—, and Harry wanted to wake up.

"You're so stupid sometimes that it astonishes even me." Through his screeching, Harry heard a very familiar sounding voice and stopped overloading his vocal cords for a second to look at the one who dared to call him stupid. Harry forgot about Saturn for a minute and looked at the man, who stood on a rock nearby. Funnily, the rock seemed to fly in completely controlled motion, it almost seemed to be floating. Harry took notice of the weird, _very_ weird, clothes— only a cloak, like a homeless person—and then looked the man in the face.

… WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!

Before him stood himself, only older and dressed like one of the hippies.

"Man, you look seriously mental." His older self theatrically placed one hand over his eyes in a gesture of despair at Harry's words.

"It bothers you what I am wearing , but it doesn't bother you that you can somehow breathe while in space? Who is the mental one here?" Snape failed like always and landed on place number two of the "Acidic" list Harry had just created.

This guy, who not only looked like his older self would, but also had the familiar vibe of his own magic, was a bitch.

Was he real or was it just a very weird dream?

"If I am a bitch, then you're a bitch. Are you one?" Oooookay. It wasn't very pleasant to have your thoughts read even before you decided what to say, and Harry sat on his also floating rock, frowning.

He could feel that this guy wasn't a fraud, like the others.

"You are me in the future?" Harry asked, wondering if James had blown up the last nuclear bomb he had, somewhere in Yellowstone, making the whole world turn backwards a few thousand years.

It looked like, unfortunately, the nuclear bombs would not work on him either, and he'd be the last person alive. His older self certainly looked like he had lived through the end of the world.

His bright like a rainbow future was now replaced by two words : alone and crazy.

Oh, whyyyyy….

Harry's mental whining about his unfair share was stopped rather rudely by rich laughter, which came from the bent-in-half cloaked weirdo.

It was sad to acknowledge that the docs may have been right and he was actually completely insane.

His mind was holding on for now, but with the stupidity around him, he was sure to develop schizophrenia later on in his life. His older self—the Hippie—looked to be the correct age, around thirty, maybe, just in time to catch a suddenly activated mental illness. Then again, who knew what kind of radioactive face creams were available in the future?

Apply once and grow a second nose.

The laughter reminded him of roaring that was getting more pitiful with each second. Harry's certified glare which could make even Snape's glare run away and hide, didn't seem to have the effect it was supposed to have, as the man was now sitting on his butt, the cloak somehow still covered the, probably hairy, legs, thankfully, his shoulders shaking in uncontrolled laughter.

Three minutes later, when Harry couldn't sneer anymore because he had gotten a face muscle spasm, the Hippie finally collected himself and still hiccupping like a teenager idiot, his older self finally opened his mouth for other things than laughter.

Sounded perverse, somehow…

"I am so going to enjoy your conversations with our aunt and uncle." Crazy, just like he had said. "I am not from the future, you dumbo, I am your subconscious."

Oh…Ooooh, that made sense. Hmm...

"Magic?" Harry asked, just to be sure he was talking to himself.

"What else but magic can create this?" The Hippie showed around, and Harry finally nodded.

It was safe here, and it was his own mind he was talking to. "Say, if you're my subconscious, can I order you around and make you dress yourself in something better? Why do you look like you have just escaped from St. Mungo's?

"Piss off, Harry."

What a bitchlord.

His subconscious did not seem amused anymore, and changed the topic.

"I appeared to you because you completely and utterly suck at standard magic, and I know why. I can help you fix it."

Oooohhh…

Well, he should have started with it, instead of this charade with Saturn and fake space.

"Please do enlighten me," Harry said with a curious glint in his eyes.

"Because of Voldemort's attack, your soul was stuck in between the worlds of alive and dead for a few seconds." That made sense. "And since you returned on your own—thanks to your mother's sacrifice, by the way—" His subconscious stressed the sacrifice part, and Harry agreed with the logic again, "— you need to find Death in order to die fully." Oh, shit. He sure hoped there were useful spells in at least some books, because he had tried and failed so far to locate Death. "And since you've been in between the worlds, your magic is aggressive on its own." Hah…Now that made sense. "All you have to do is wish to not cause destruction before casting any light spells. Wish no harm, and you'll be peachy."

Harry looked at the most useful thing after antiseptic, and smiled in gratitude.

"I cannot stay any longer as I drain your energy. Do you have any questions?"

"Are there supernatural things like Devil, Apocalypse, reapers and so on? I mean, in real life, here? I know there is Death, but Death makes sense, others don't." Harry asked his subconscious, looking into the same green eyes, serious for a second.

"Are you retarded? Of course not. It's the crazy and the lazy who believe such nonsense. There is always an explanation, and if it's not logic, it's magic." He couldn't read the mind of his own sub-mind, and there was no need to lie, so Harry believed him.

It all made sense now. Weirdos with apocalyptic fantasies can argue with him all they wanted, but he wasn't going to change his mind.

"Thanks, Hippie."

"Ya, ya. See you, kiddo."

He wanted to say he wasn't a kiddo, but he was eleven, so his mind was correct.

Oh, well…He had all the time in the world to grow up. It wasn't like there was the end of the world approaching.

xxx

Good morning.

That's what everybody says when they see others early in the day, but is the morning always good?

He couldn't stop himself from closing his blue eyes and imagining—just for a tiny second—how well his morning could have been, if he had everything he wanted. Needed.

He needed so many things, and not only material in quality. He needed the admiration of the crowds and special treatment here and there—just like someone with a scar—; he needed to be respected and he needed to see his mother cry tears of pride when looking at him.

"Weasley, move your worthless self from the path of your superiors." Ron heard the voice he hated so much, and with a sneer, he quickly turned around to face Draco Malfoy with his two gorillas.

The blond pureblood was smirking nastily, and Ron wished to see Malfoy on his knees, crawling before him.

"Shut up, Malfoy! You should be the last one shouting about worthlessness considering who your father is!"

Ron grinned at Malfoy's pissed off face, feeling satisfaction that his words had hurt his nemesis. The blond shit who had everything without deserving anything opened his mouth to say something nasty when they heard a familiar voice.

"Hem-hem."

Now it was Malfoy who was grinning.

"Fifty points from Hufflepuff, Mister Weasley and detention for a month for disrespecting one of the most noble families in the wizarding world. Apologize immediately." Ron paled as he heard the nasty nasal voice of Professor Umbridge, and even more so when he heard just how many points he had lost. Noble families…A month!

"Sorry," Ron mumbled, barely able to not spit into the smirking face with sharp features.

I hate you, Malfoy! I hate you, Potter! Considering who was Malfoy's best pal, Ron tried not to think about and see those two. At least the scar-face wasn't here to add to the humiliation with facts that only he, Ron, knew. But somehow, Potter seemed to know way too much.

"That is not an apology, Mister Weasley. I will write your parents about your lack of socially acceptable behaviour in the wizarding world, and I'll talk personally to your father in the Ministry." The toad's voice was nastily sweet, making Ron grit his teeth in humiliation.

 _Mom will flip out._

"I apologize."

Malfoy's face was neutral, especially when Umbridge would glance at him, but his eyes, his grey eyes were shining with sadistic glee and satisfaction.

Why was fate so unfair to him and so generous towards such bastards like Malfoy and others?

He didn't even want to think about Potter.

xxx

"Harry."

He turned over and covered his head with his pillow.

"Harry."

The voice was getting more impatient, but was also gentle and nervous at the same time.

"Go away, Neville. I'm not here." His mumbled reply came from under the pillow and he hoped Neville understood him because otherwise he'd be really pissed.

It was Sunday so everyone and everything could wait. He was sleeping! Was it that hard to understand and piss off?

"Harry, it's time to get up, seriously. You have no time for breakfast already and you barely have the time to get up and run to History of Magic."

I'll tear your tongue out, Neville. I am so sleepy…

"It's Sunday, Neville, what History of Magic can there be on a freaking Sunday? Go away." Harry groaned, removing the pillow, and turning onto his other side before placing the pillow back onto his head.

He liked Longbottom, but now he'd murder him easily. And quickly. He'd blow the planet up if it meant he could have his sleep.

"It's Monday, Harry."

Whaaaat?

He removed the pillow, and quickly sat up.

"It's Sunday."

"No, it's Monday and we have History with Hufflepuff." Neville was already almost out of the door and Harry called him. "Neville!"

The chubby kid turned around with an open, sincere face.

"Thank you."

Two words seemed to make the Neville glow with happiness. Harry had actually forgotten to put an alarm on and since yesterday he had been reading, reading and reading, he had lost track of time. Plus the meeting with the Hippie left him exhausted. And Neville Longbottom, the coward on the outside, was truly the iron soldier Harry saw in him from the very beginning—an honest, loyal, and brave boy who was also pure, despite what had happened to his parents.

It wasn't gossip, he simply looked into Neville's mind and saw it all for himself.

Alice and Frank—the vegetables from the hospital—were his parents. Sad.

"No problem, Harry." Neville suddenly paused before offered shyly, "I could wait for you if you want."

It wasn't going to be easy for Neville— a dolphin among the sharks.

"I don't want you to get into trouble. Run, I'll catch up soon." Harry smiled an honest smile in return to Neville's, and then Neville was off.

Xxx

He had barely made it in time and quickly sat behind his desk. The Professor was a ghost, and that really said it all.

Today's lesson was going to be as boring as the ones he had had in the last one-and-a-half months here, so not even bothering with listening or taking notes, Harry took out the new notebook he had received with his order of books from a couple of magical bookshops.

Maybe it was a free gift for his large order?

A cheap, used notebook as a thank you gift for an order of over twenty expensive books and other school related materials? Cheap.

Then again, the notebook gave off magical vibes, so maybe there was some useful spell he hadn't discovered yet?

The first page was already filled with the recipes for the best milkshakes—he was going to copy them and give to the house-elves so that they could perfect his favourite drink—and Harry turned it over.

The quill started to fly over the previously empty page, filling it with a necessary shopping list of antiseptics and other very important things for hygiene.

The notebook had to be useful for something, right?

Xxx

A snowball.

One snowball could be enough to cause an avalanche and Severus had a feeling that the snowball had been thrown a long time ago, and only now the avalanche had started its descent. And he was standing right in its path. They all were.

The Ministry was playing some, still unclear, game, and as far as Severus understood, it was all about Harry Potter. It was all about who would get the custody of the Boy Wonder, and somehow, he had a feeling that it was Dumbledore who was under fire, without even realising it.

He had a bad feeling about it, and Severus couldn't shake it off

Severus looked over the sitting figure opposite of him, at the grey hair and sad, solemn blue eyes.

"Could you repeat that one more time for me, Albus? Because I still refuse to believe the Ministry would do something so imbecilic. Fudge is a moron, but not a complete fool," Severus stated, not sure anymore about what was real and what was not.

After experiencing the end of the famous Atlantis, and getting a souvenir that wasn't from this time—according to all magical tests—Severus didn't know what to think. Was Potter a reincarnation of someone from that time? Considering how Potter behaved here, Severus would guess in the previous life Potter had been a slave holder with fresh, healthy organs and other wizzle-wuzzle nonsense.

"I am being charged with the abuse of authority as the Headmaster of Hogwarts because I declined Petunia Dursley's Hogwarts acceptance, and therefore forced a magical child to live with muggles." Albus Dumbledore repeated slowly and seriously. "There will be a hearing next week."

"You have got to be kidding me, Albus." He knew his face said it all, as Albus Dumbledore even smiled a small, humorous smile, before getting all serious again.

"My thoughts exactly, Severus." Albus was stroking his long, silver beard, his old hand twirling one strand onto his index finger before uncurling it. Silently.

He knew the old man well enough to know that Albus wasn't telling him something. The Headmaster started talking again, making Severus check his mental shields for any recent breaches due to the perfect timing. "We'll see what happens at the hearing as Petunia will have to take Veritaserum and an identification test, and I am not very worried at the moment."

Considering everything that had happened ever since he had met Potter, Severus wasn't as carefree as Dumbledore tried to look.

"And if she passes the identification test and Veritaserum?" He didn't want to imagine the consequences, he really didn't.

"No one is immune to Veritaserum, Severus, you should know that better than anyone. This woman, whoever she is, will not be able to lie."

"Technically, that is correct." Severus's reply was short and he bit the inside of his lip, trying not to sound crazy even for his own ears. "However, if we take into account that so far nothing was normal and as it should have been when dealing with Potter or any of his associates, then maybe you should consider your situation in case this fraud manages to forge the test results and somehow lie under the truth potion. What if the Veritaserum fails?" He could see his reflection in the spectacles on Dumbledore's face, both looking each other in the face.

"Then it will be hell, my boy."

Xxx

He knew the day was coming closer and closer, and it actually surprised him how much time it had taken for his 'friend' to approach him.

He was walking and reading at the same time, and after bumping into someone, his bag fell and all the books flew around, scattered from right to left.

The person whom he bumped into, was standing tall—a figure of speech as she definitely wasn't tall, even compared to him—, hair as electrocuted as always, but at least now the teeth were straight.

Harry didn't know why, but ever since laying his eyes on her in France and after reading her thoughts, he couldn't stand Hermione Granger.

It wasn't about her bossiness, or about her know-it-all attitude; it was the "black-and-white" world-vision where only "right" and "wrong" existed, with no shades of grey. Maybe she'd change in the future but it didn't mean Harry had to tolerate her murderous thoughts on every occasion.

He couldn't stand her blind adoration and respect for authority, he couldn't stand her morals, and all-in-all, she had been lucky in France.

He could have killed her, or let James do it, however he didn't. He wasn't the nicest person, but he wasn't a complete psycho like James Moriarty or Voldemort.

He'd break her beliefs and then he'd watch what happened.

"Great teeth, Granger. Did you get a discount for replacing so many?" Harry asked with a laugh after he quickly got up only to then fall backwards against the wall, his head buzzing from the hit he had received in the jaw.

"Now you can find out for yourself." Granger sneered at him and stepping onto his notebook with milkshake recipes, she then hit it with her foot, making the notebook fly like a football towards the end of the corridor, before glaring at him with eyes full of hate and murder, and then she turned around and slowly walked away.

His front teeth were broken and the blood he tasted in his mouth was dripping down his chin, but he didn't notice the pain, his green eyes shining eerily for a second, Harry thought about just how much he'd enjoy destroying Hermione Granger.

Spitting the blood onto the floor, Harry failed to notice Ronald Weasley standing quietly behind the corner, blue eyes now trained on the lonely notebook.

Xxx

Where to now?

He was a first year and even though he followed the instructions in the book, somehow, he ended up with two front teeth just like the sabertooth tiger from "Ice Age". He could go to the hospital wing, but he hated any doctors, so the other option would be Professor McGonagall.

Trying to move like a shadow while putting a scarf around his face, Harry finally reached the hallway of the Professor's office, trying to not move his jaw. Luckily for him, it was almost curfew, so not many students were around.

He knocked and knocked on the door, only to get no reply.

Great. He couldn't even speak properly, and he didn't know whom else to trust with seeing this totally unnecessary humiliation.

Flitwick maybe? But then again, where the hell was Flitwick's office? He could go to either Snape and live through some very mordant but amusing comments, or go to Dumbledore and get stuck with the crazy old man for some more time. He had seen the Headmaster more than he saw his classmates, and Harry wasn't looking forward to spending some more unnecessary time with the old Headmaster for any reason.

Snape it was then.

Xxx

What have you achieved?

The world was the canvas, what trace did you leave?

What kind of picture did you paint on the canvas? Was it all pink and shiny, or was it full of grey and dark blots here and there? The canvas was your legacy to the next generations, and you'd want it to be impressive. While some may think he was a complete and utter psychopath—he was, so what?—, it did not disturb him in pursuing his dreams, it enabled him to do more and more.

He was different from others, even from the smart ones like Iceman and the Virgin, whom he had to give credit.

Oh, he'd give his heart to see Sherlock's face when he found out from Mycroft just what kind of Disneyland they had found themselves in.

The man in an expensive, smart suit, the polished look accomplished with a red tie, squeezed the speedboat's rails tighter, his knuckles turning white.

The sun shined onto his polarized sunglasses, and Jim Moriarty lifted his head towards the warm sunrays, the fresh ocean water landing on his face from the sprays from the quickly moving speedboat.

His original dream had been destroyed just like Atlantis had been. He had wanted to leave a hole in the canvas for the next generation to see, and had hoped to leave an impression.

Soooo simple.

Jim Moriarty smiled and touched his beating heart, which was now back in his chest.

His canvas was going to be the most mind-blowing in the whole wide world.

His legacy would be the total destruction of all the next generations along with the current one, and this whole fucking planet all together, and his boy, his Harry, was going to do all the killing.

It was almost too much joy.

Now he knew how proud dads felt. And that is why he was on the speedboat, travelling to their new home. Under 'their' he meant his and Harry's.

The power of God was destined to destroy not some thousands, but billions of people; the power that destroyed planets and galaxies was called Harry and he, Jim— James for Harry only—Moriarty, was going to get the unofficial custody of Apocalypse in one week.

He was such a lucky, alive again bastard.

Xxx

 _a/n Took me some time...To those who reviewed, thank you, guys! I really appreciate your thoughts. This update is thanks to you!_

 _Please review and let me know what you think. I wanted to write something different and it's not for everyone's taste. Even I need help with motivation sometimes._

 _I specifically didn't want the readers—you—to know about Harry's power from the beginning. Because that's how Apocalypse comes—unnoticed._


End file.
